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< 

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> 







THE 

TURNER TWINS 


BY 

RALPH HENRY BARBOUR 

Author of “The Crimson Sweater,’^ “Harry’s Island,** 
“Team-Mates,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
C. M. RELYEA 



NEW YORK 
THE CENTURY CO. 
1922 


OOPTBIGHT, 1921, 1922, BT 

The Cintuby Co. 


printed in u. s. a. 

SEP -7 1922 

(0,aAP83115 


I 


CONTENTS 


chapter page 

I Introduces a Pair of Shoes .... 3 

II The Girl in the White Middy ... 13 

III Cakes and Ale 28 

IV Kbwpie Starts Something .... 37 

V In the Performance of Duty ... 52 

VI Ned is Firm 61 

VII High School Accepts Defeat . . .70 

VIII In the Miser’s House 84 

IX Laurie Hears News 98 

X Polly Entertains 110 

XI Ned Speaks Out 120 

XII The Committee on Arrangements . . 130 

XIII Ned Gets into the Game 141 

XIV /The Fete 154 

XV Ned Has an Idea 170 

XVI Polly Tells a Spook Story . . . .179 

XVII Laurie Makes a Protest 190 

XVIII Before the Battle 201 

XIX Ned is Missing 213 

XX For the Honor of the Turners . . . 223 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXI The Understudy 238 

XXII The Boys Make a Present .... 250 

XXIII The Secret Passage 262 

XXIV A Merry Christmas 272 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


lACINO 

FAGS 

Through the secret door Frontispiece 


‘‘Hello, fellows! Salutations and everything!’’ . 36 


‘But don’t you think almanacs make mistakes some- 
times?” asked Polly 136 


“Turner. Guess he ’s going to kick a goal for *em.” 240 





1 


« < ' # ' I 






THE TURNER TWINS 



THE TURNER TWINS 


CHAPTER I 

INTBODUCES A PAIR OP HEROES 

‘‘ TAIL,’^ said the boy in the gray flannels. 

^ ‘‘School/^ pronounced the boy in the blue 
serge. 

^‘Bet you!'' 

‘‘No, sir, you owe me ten cents now. You 
didn^t pay up the last time.’^ 

“It ’s wrong to bet for money, Ned.’’ 

The other set down the suitcase he was carry- 
ing and sootfed. “Yes, when you lose,” he ob- 
served, with deep sarcasm. “That ’s thirty-five 
cents you owe me. You bet in Chicago that — ” 
“That debt ’s outlawed. Chicago ’s in Mich- 
igan — ” 

“Bet you!” 

“And this is New York, and so — ” 

“Mighty good thing Dad sent you to school, 
Laurie. Chicago ’s in Illinois, you ignoramus.” 

“Is it? Well, who cares?” Laurence Sten- 
man Turner had also deposited the bag he was 
carrying on the brick sidewalk and was applying 
a lavender-bordered handkerchief to a moist brow. 
“Just the same, that ’s a jail.” 

3 


4 THE TURNER TWINS 

‘‘If that a jail, I ’ll eat my hat,” declared 
the other. 

“It ’s not a school, though, and that ’s flat,” 
was the prompt retort. 

‘ ‘ Huh, that was an easy one ! ’ ’ Edward Ander- 
son Turner retreated to a flat-topped stone wall 
bordering a well-shaded lawn and seated himself 
with a sigh of relief. His companion followed 
suit. Behind them, grass and trees and flower 
beds made a pleasant setting for a square gray 
house, half hidden from the street. Overhead 
a horse-chestnut tree spread low branches across 
the sidewalk. The quiet village street ascended 
gently, curving as it went, empty in both direc- 
tions. Somewhere on a neighboring thorough- 
fare a scissors-grinder was punctuating the silence 
with the musical ding — dang — dong of bells. In 
a near-by tree a locust was making his shrill clat- 
ter. Across the way, the subject of contention, 
stood a large red-brick edifice, stone trimmed, 
many windowed, costly and unlovely. The boys 
viewed it silently. Then their glances fell to the 
two black suitcases on the curbing. 

“How far did that hombre say it was to the 
school?” asked Ned Turner, after a minute of 
silence. 

“Three quarters of a mile.” 

“How far have we walked already?” 

“Mile and a half.” 

“Consequently?” 


A PAIR OF HEROES 


5 


“Said hombre was a li — ^was anvoracious.’’ 

“Un-t?er-acious is the word, old son.’’ 

“What do we care? We don’t own it,” replied 
Laurie, cheerfully. “Want to go on?” 

Ned shook his head slowly. “What time have 
you got?” he asked. 

“What time do you want?” was the flippant re- 
sponse. 

With a sigh, Ned pulled back his left sleeve and 
looked at his watch. “It ’s only about a quarter 
to twelve. We don’t have to get there until six 
if we don’t want to.” 

“I know, but I could n’t sit on this wall all that 
time ! Besides, what about lunch ? ’ ’ 

“I ’m not very hungry,” was the sad reply. 
“That ’s the trouble with having your breakfast 
late.” 

“That ’s the trouble with eating two plates 
of griddle-cakes, you mean,” retorted Laurie. 
“Anyway, I ’m hungry if you ’re not. Let ’s 
go.” 

But he made no move, and they continued to 
dangle their shoes from the wall and gaze lazily 
across the shady street. The scissors-grinder’s 
chime died in the distance. Farther down the 
street the whirring of a lawn-mower competed 
with the locust. 

“Upon a wall they sat them down,” mur- 
mured Ned, turning a challenging look on his 
companion. 


6 


THE TURNER TWINS 


‘‘Lost in the wilds of Orstead Town,’^ added 
Laurie. 

Ned nodded mild approval and once more 
silence held. 

Save that one was dressed in gray and the other 
in blue, the two boys were strikingly alike. Each 
was slim of body and round of face, with red- 
brown hair and a short, slightly impertinent nose. 
Ned^s eyes were a trifle bluer than Laurie’s and he 
had the advantage — if advantage it was — of some 
five pounds of weight. But neither of these 
facts was apparent at first glance. Faces and 
hands were well browned and the pair looked ex- 
tremely healthy. They were dressed neatly, with 
perhaps more attention to detail than is usual in 
lads of their age, their attire terminating at one 
end in well-polished brown shoes and at the other 
in immaculate black derbies. Their age was 
fifteen years, three months, and eleven days. 
Which, of course, leads you to the correct con- 
clusion that they were twins. 

“Maybe,” hazarded Laurie, presently, “we ’ve 
lost our way.” 

“Don’t just see how we could,” Ned objected. 
‘ ‘ The old chap at the station said we were to keep 
right along up Walnut Street. This is still Wal- 
nut Street, isn’t it?” 

“I suppose so.” Laurie’s glance strayed right 
and left. ‘ ‘ Must be ; I don ’t see any walnuts. ’ ’ 

“Guess the only ‘nuts’ are right here. Come 


A PAIE OF HEROES 


7 


on, let hit the trail again.’’ Ned slid to his feet 
and took up his burden. ‘‘Why the dickens we 
did n’t take that carriage the fellow wanted to sell 
us is more than I see.” 

“ ’Cause we needed the exercise. Also, ’cause 
we ’re down to a dollar and fourteen cents be- 
tween us — ^unless you ’re holding out. ’ ’ 

“Well, I ’m not!” replied Ned, indignantly. 
“I paid for the breakfasts in New York — ” 

“And I paid for dinner on the diner last 
night — ” 

“Who said you didn’t?” They went on 
leisurely, and presently Ned continued: “Say, 
suppose we don’t like this ranch after we get there 
— then what, old son?” 

Laurie considered thoughtfully. Then, “Two 
things we can do,” he pronounced. “No, three. 
We can put up with it, change it to suit us, or 
leave it.” 

“Leave it! Yes, we can! On a dollar and 
fourteen cents?” 

“We ’ll have nearly twenty more when we cash 
Dad’s check and pay the term bill. Twenty dol- 
lars would take us back to New York and buy a 
lot of griddle-cakes, anyway.” 

Laurie’s voice was partly drowned by a small 
delivery automobile that dashed into sight at a 
corner ahead and sped by with a clamor worthy 
of a four-ton truck. The brothers looked after it 
interestedly. “That ’s the first sign of life we ’ve 


8 


THE TURNER TWINS 


seen/^ said Ned. ‘^Say, I do wish this street 
would stop twisting this way. First thing we 
know, we ^11 be back at the station 

“Bet you I ’d hop the first freight then. I Ve 
got a hunch that we ’re not going to care for Hill- 
man’s School.” 

“Speak for yourself. I am. I like this town, 
too. It ’s pretty.” 

“Oh, it ’s pretty enough,” grumbled Laurie, 
“but it went to sleep about a century ago and 
has n ’t waked up since. Here ’s somebody com- 
ing; let ’s ask where the school is.” 

“It ’s just a girl.” 

“What of it? She probably knows.” 

The girl appeared to be of about their own age 
and wore a white middy dress with black trim- 
ming and a scarlet tie knotted below a V of sun- 
browned throat. She wore no hat and her dark 
hair was gathered into a single braid. As she 
drew near she gave the boys a quick glance of ap- 
praisal from a pair of gravely friendly brown 
eyes. It was Ned who shifted his suitcase to his 
left hand and raised his derby. It was always 
Ned who spoke first; after that, they alternated 
scrupulously. 

“Would you please tell us where HiUjtnan’s 
School is?” he asked. 

The girl stopped and her somewhat serious 
face lighted with a smile. “It ’s right there,” 
she replied, and nodded. 


A PAIR OF HEROES 


9 


The boys turned to the blankness of a high 
privet hedge behind an iron fence. The girl 
laughed softly. “Behind the hedge, I mean,^^ 
she explained. “The gate is a little way around 
the comer there, on Summit Street. ’ ^ 

“Oh,^’ said Laurie. That laugh was conta- 
gious, and he grinned in response. “A man at 
the station told us it was only three quarters of a 
mile, but we Ve been walking for hours 

“I guess it ^s nearer a mile than three quar- 
ters,^’ answered the girl, slowly. She appeared 
to be giving the matter very serious consideration 
and two little thoughtful creases appeared above 
her nose, a small, straight nose that was bridged 
by a sprinkling of freckles. Then the smile came 
again. ‘ ‘ Maybe it did seem longer, though, ’ ’ she 
acknowledged, “for it ’s up-hill all the way; and 
then, you had your bags. You ’re new boys, 
aren ’t you 1 ” 

Ned acknowledged it, adding, “Think we ’ll like 
it?” 

The girl seemed genuinely surprised. “MTiy, 
of course ! Every one likes it. What a perfectly 
funny idea ! ’ ’ 

“Well,” said Laurie, defensively, “we ’ve 
never tried boarding-school before, you see. Dad 
didn’t know anything about Hillman’s, either. 
He chose it on account of the way the advertise- 
ment read in a magazine. Something about ‘a 
moderate discipline rigidly enforced.’ ” 


10 


THE TURNER TWINS 


The girl laughed again. (She had a jolly sort 
of laugh, they decided.) ‘‘Yon ^re — ^you ^re twins, 
are n T you ? ’ ’ she asked. 

“He is,^^ replied Ned, gravely. 

“Why — ^why, arenT you both?^^ Her brown 
eyes grew very round and the little lines creased 
her nose again. 

“It ^s this way,’^ explained Laurie. “Ned was 
born first, and so, as there was only one of him, 
he wasnT a twin. Then I came, and that made 
two of us, and I was a twin. You see, donT you? 
It really quite plain.’’ 

The girl shook her head slowly in puzzlement. 
“I — I ’m afraid I don’t,” she answered apologet- 
ically. “You must be twins — both of you, I mean 
— because you both look just like both — I mean, 
each other!” Then she caught the sparkle of 
mischief in Ned’s blue eyes and laughed. Then 
they aU laughed. After which they seemed sud- 
denly to be very good friends, such good friends 
that Laurie abandoned custom and spoke out of 
turn. 

“I suppose you know a lot of the fellows,” he 
said. 

The girl shook her head. “N-no, not any, 
really. Of course, I see most of them when they 
come to Mother’s, but she doesn’t like me to — 
to know them. ’ ’ 

“Of course not,” approved Ned. “She ’s dead 
light, too. They ’re a pretty poor lot, I guess.” 


A PAIR OF HEROES 


11 


‘‘Oh, no, they ^re not, really ! Only, yon see — ’’ 
She stopped, and then went on a trifle breath- 
lessly: “I guess she would n^t be awfully pleased 
if she saw me now! I — I hope you 11 like the 
school.’^ 

She nodded and went on. 

“Thanks,” called Laurie. “If we donl like it, 
we 11 change it. Good-by.” 

“Nice kid,” observed Ned, tolerantly, as they 
turned the corner of the hedge. “Wonder who 
she is. She said most of the fellows went to her 
mother’s. Maybe her mother gives dancing les- 
sons or something, eh?” 

“If she does, she won’t see me,” responded his 
brother, firmly. “No dancing for mine.” 

“Maybe it ’s compulsory.” 

“Maybe it ’s esthetic,” retorted Laurie, de- 
risively. “It makes no never mind. I ’m agin 
it. This must be the place. Yes, there ’s a 
sign. ’ ’ 

It was a very modest sign a-swing from a rustic 
post beside a broad entrance giving on to a well- 
kept drive. ‘ ‘ Hillman ’s School — Entrance Only, ’ ’ 
it read. Laurie stopped in pretended alarm and 
laid a detaining clutch on Ned’s shoulder. 

“ ^Entrance Only’! Sounds as if we couldn’t 
ever get out again, Ned! Do you dare?” 

Ned looked doubtfully through at the curving 
drive and the red-brick building that showed be- 
yond the border of trees and shrubbery. Then 


12 THE TURNER TWINS 

he threw baek his shoulders and set foot bravely 
within. 

‘‘Come, comrade, let us know the worst 
Laurie, with a gesture of resignation, fol- 
lowed. 

“What you durst I will likewise durst I 


CHAPTER II 


THE GIKL IN THE WHITE MIDDY 

HEN Doctor John Hyde Hillman started a 



▼ ▼ modest school for boys, on the bank of the 
Hudson River, at Orstead, the town barely crept to 
the one brick building that contained dormitory 
and recitation-rooms. But that was nearly twenty 
years ago, and to-day the place is no longer iso- 
lated, but stands well inside the residence section 
of the village. There are four buildings, occupy- 
ing most of an unusually large block. School 
Hall, four stories in height, is a red-brick, slate- 
roofed edifice, whose unloveliness has been mer- 
cifully hidden by ivy. It faces Summit Street and 
contains the class-rooms, the offices, and, at one 
end, the principal ’s quarters. Flanking it are the 
two dormitories. East Hall and West Hall. These, 
while of brick too, are modern and far more 
attractive. Each contains sleeping-rooms to ac- 
commodate forty students, two masters' studies, 
a recreation-hall, dining-room, kitchen, and serv- 
ice-rooms. Behind East Hall is the gymnasium, 
a picturesque structure of random-set stone, gray 
stucco, and much glass. Here, besides the gym- 
nasium proper, is an auditorium of good size, a 


13 


14 


THE TURNEE TWINS 


modest swimming-tank, locker-room and baths, 
and a commodious office presided over by Mr. 
Wells, the physical director. From the gymna- 
sium steps one looks across an attractive, well-kept 
quadrangle of shaded turf, vegetable and flower 
gardens, and tennis-courts. 

Doctor Hillman occupies an apartment at the 
west end of the School Hall, gained from the 
building by way of the school offices, and from 
without by way of a wide porch, vine screened in 
summer and glassed in winter, an outdoor living- 
room where, on seasonable Friday afternoons, the 
doctor ^s maiden sister. Miss Tabitha, who keeps 
house for him, serves weak tea and layer-cake to 
all comers. Miss Tabitha, I regret to say, is 
known among the boys as ^ ‘ Tabby, with, how- 
ever, no more intention of disrespect than in 
alluding to the doctor as ^‘Johnny.’’ Miss 
Tabitha ^s thin body holds a warm heart, and her 
somewhat stern countenance belies her kindly 
ways. 

On this fifteenth day of September, shortly 
after twelve o’clock. Miss Tabitha was seated on 
the vine-shaded porch in an erect and uncomprom- 
ising attitude, her knitting-needles clicking busily. 
Near by, but a few moments before released from 
the office, the doctor was stretched in a long wicker 
chair, a morning paper before him. At the other 
end of the porch, a gate-legged table was spread 
for the mid-day meal, and a middle-aged colored 


THE GIRL IN THE WHITE MIDDY 15 


woman — ^who, when it pleased her, answered to 
the name of Aunt Persis — shuffled in and out of 
sight at intervals. It was Miss Tabitha who, 
hearing the sound of steps on the walk, peered 
over her glasses and broke the silence. 

‘‘Two more of the boys are coming, John,^’ she 
announced. 

The doctor grunted. 

“I think they are new hoys. Yes, I am sure 
they are. And bless my soul, John, they ’re alike 
as two peas!” 

“Alike?” The doctor rustled the paper to in- 
dicate interest. “Well, why shouldn’t they be? 
Probably they ’re brothers. Let me see, were n ’t 
those two hoys from California brothers? Of 
course. Turner ’s the name.” 

“Well, I never saw two boys so much alike in 
all my bom days, ’ ’ Miss Tabitha marveled. ‘ ‘ Do 
you suppose they can be twins, John?” 

“It ’s quite within the realm of probability,” 
was the reply. “I believe that twins do occur oc- 
casionally, even in the — er — best-regulated fam- 
ilies.” 

“Well, they certainly are twins!” Miss Tabi- 
tha laid down her work, brushed the front of her 
immaculate dress, and prepared to rise. “I sup- 
pose I had better go and meet them,” she added. 

“I don’t see the necessity for it, my dear,” the 
doctor protested. “Cummins may, I think, be 
relied on to deal even with — er — twins.” 


16 


THE TURNER TWINS 


‘‘Of course; but — still — ^California ’s such a 
long way — and they may feel strange — or lone- 
some — 

The doctor laughed gently. “Then by all 
means go, my dear. If you like, have them out 
here for a few minutes. If the resemblance be- 
tween them is as striking as you seem to think, 
they must be worth seeing. ^ ’ 

When Miss Tabitha had tripped into the house, 
the doctor dropped his paper, stretched luxur- 
iously, and, with a sigh of protest, sat up. He 
was several years younger than his sister — ^which 
is to say, in the neighborhood of forty-seven. He 
was a smallish man, compactly built, with a pleas- 
ant countenance on which a carefully-trimmed 
Vandyke beard made up to an extent for the lack 
of hair above. He wore shell-rimmed glasses and 
was very near-sighted, a fact emphasized by his 
manner of thrusting his head forward to eke out 
the deficiencies of his lenses. This trick was ap- 
parent a minute later when, following in the 
tripping footsteps of Miss Tabitha, the two boys 
emerged on the porch. They were amazingly 
alike, the doctor decided : same height, same 
breadth at hip and shoulder, same coloring, same 
leisurely, yet confident, ease of movement, same 
expression of lively curiosity twinkling through 
an almost depressingly respectful solemnity. 

‘ ‘ These are the Turner boys, ’ ’ announced Miss 
Tabitha. “This is Edward and this is — ’’ She 


THE GIEL IN THE WHITE MIDDY 17 


halted to look doubtfully from one to the other. 
‘‘Or — or perhaps this is Edward and — Dear 
mel’^ 

“I Edward, ma’am,^^ said the boy in blue. 

“Well, I don’t see how you can ever be certain 
of it!” sighed Miss Tabitha, doubtfully. “This 
is Doctor Hillman.” 

They shook hands, and in a moment the boys 
found themselves seated side by side and reply- 
ing to the doctor’s questions. 

“You are entering with certificates from your 
high school principal, I believe, young gentle- 
men. What year were you?” 

“Second, sir,” answered Ned. 

“And your home is in — ” 

“Santa Lucia, sir,” replied Laurie. 

“California,” added Ned. 

“Well, you ’re quite a ways from home. Did 
you make the trip alone?” 

“Yes, sir. Dad was coming with us as far as 
Chicago, but something happened so he could n ’t. 
We didn’t have any trouble, though.” 

“Eeally? Well, I believe you have the dis- 
tinction of residing farther away than any of 
your fellows here. I don’t recall any one who 
lives as far away as California; do you, sister?” 

Miss Tabitha looked doubtful and hesitated an 
instant before she replied, “George Watson 
comes from Wyoming, I think, John.” 

“So he does,” assented the doctor, gravely; 


18 


THE TURNER TWINS 


‘■but measured in a straight line, my dear, Cali- 
fornia is slightly farther than Wyoming/’ 

“Is it?” asked Miss Tabitha, untroubled. “I 
never could remember where those western States 
are.” 

“You remember many more important things, 
however. My sister, boys, fancied that she de- 
tected a certain resemblance between you, and 
even surmised that you might be — er — twins. 
Doubtless she ’s mistaken.” 

“No, sir,” answered Ned, more than a trace of 
surprise in his voice. “I mean, we are twins, 
sir.” 

“Why, now that ’s interesting! Looking 
closer — ” the doctor leaned forward and craned 
his head — “I believe I detect a certain slight 
similarity myself!” 

There was a perceptible twinkle behind the 
glasses and Laurie dared a laugh, in which the 
doctor and Ned joined, while Miss Tabitha mur- 
mured: “WeU! I should think you might!** 

“I hope you are both going to like the school,” 
continued the doctor. ‘ ‘ Of course, you ’ll find our 
ways a little different, but we ’ll try to make you 
feel at home. You are the first representatives 
of your State who have attended our school, and 
I trust that both in conduct and industry you will 
bring honor to it. Mr. Cornish, your hall master, 
will advise you in all matters pertaining to your 
studies, Other questions may be taken to Mr. 


THE GIRL IN THE WHITE MIDDY 19 

Cummins, the school secretary, whom you have 
doubtless already met. But I want you always 
to feel at perfect liberty to come to me at any 
time on any matter at all. And,^’ added the doc- 
tor, with a twinkle, ^4f we fail you, there is still 
my sister, who, I assure you, possesses more wis- 
dom than all of us.’’ 

Miss Tabitha acknowledged the compliment 
with a little wry smile, and Ned and Laurie arose. 

‘‘Yes, sir,” said the former. 

“Thank you, sir,” said Laurie. 

“Luncheon is served at one in West Hall,” con- 
tinued the doctor. “That ’s the dormitory be- 
hind you there. Beginning with supper to-night, 
you will take your meals in your own hall, but only 
a few of the students have arrived as yet, and so 
only one dining-room is open. I ’m very glad to 
have met you, young gentlemen. Mr. Cummins 
will direct you to your room. Good morning.” 

Five minutes later, the Turner twins set their 
suitcases down on the floor of Number 16 East 
Hall and looked about them. Number 16 was not 
palatial as to size, but it was big enough to hold 
comfortably the two single beds, the study-table, 
the two narrow chiffoniers, and the four chairs 
that made up its furnishing. There was a gener- 
ous-sized closet at each side of the door, and 
two windows set close together between the beds. 
Under the windows was a wide seat, lacking only 
pillows to make it inviting. From the casements 


20 


THE TURNER TWINS 


the boys looked over or through the topmost 
branches of the maples that lined Washington 
Street and followed Summit Street as it continued 
its ascent of the hill and presently leveled out be- 
tween a thick wood on one side and an open field 
on the other. 

‘‘That must be the athletic field,’' said Laurie. 
“See the stand there? And the goal-posts? 
How do you like it?” 

“The field? Looks all right from here.” 

“I mean the whole outfit, you simp; the school 
and Doctor Hillman and Miss Frosty-Face and 
everything. ’ ’ 

“Cut out calling names, Laurie. Miss Hill- 
man 's all right. So 's the doctor. So 's the 
school. I like it. Wonder when our trunks will 
get here.” 

“Half an hour ago you had a hunch you were n’t 
going to like it,” jeered Laurie. “Changed your 
mind, have n’t you?” 

“Yes, and I ’m going to change more than my 
mind.” Whereupon Ned opened his bag and se- 
lected a clean shirt. “What time is it?” 

“What do you wear a watch for if you never 
look at it?” grumbled his brother. “It ’s ten to 
one, Lazy. I ’m going to find a place to wash 
up. I choose this side of the room, Ned.” 

Ned studied the room a moment. “No, you 
don’t,” he challenged. “I ’ll take this side. 
I ’m the oldest.” 


THE GIRL IN THE WHITE MIDDY 21 


“There isnT any difference, you chump. One 
side ’s as good as the other.’’ 

“Then you won’t mind taking the other,” an- 
swered Ned, sweetly. “Run along and find the 
lavatory. I think it ’s at the head of the stairs. 
Wonder why they put us up two flights.” 

“Guess they knew you were naturally lazy and 
needed the exercise.” 

Laurie dodged a pair of traveling slippers in 
a red-leather case and disappeared into the 
corridor. 

Some ten minutes later they descended the 
stairway together and set out for West Hall. 
Laurie drew attention to the gymnasium building, 
but Ned, who had recovered his appetite, only 
deigned it a glance. Two boys, luggage laden, 
evidently just arrived, came down the steps of 
School Hall as the twins passed, and stared cu- 
riously. 

‘ ^ Guess they ’ve never seen twins before in this 
part of the world,” grumbled Laurie. “Those 
chaps nearly popped their eyes out!” 

West Hall proved an exact duplicate of their 
own dormitory, and the dining-room occupied all 
the right end of it. There were about fifteen boys 
there, in age varying from fourteen to eighteen, 
and there was a perceptible pause in the business 
of eating when the new-comers entered. A wait- 
ress conducted them to seats at a table already 
occupied by three other lads, and asked if they ’d 


22 THE TURNER TWINS 

have milk or iced tea. Ned, as usual, answered 
for both. 

“Iced tea, please, and lots of lemon. 

A very stout boy, sitting across the table, snig- 
gered, and then, encountering Ned^s inquiring re- 
gard, said, “Guess you think you ^re in the Wal- 
dorf!^’ 

“What ’s the Waldorf?’’ asked Ned. “Don’t 
you get lemon with iced tea here?” 

“Sure! but you don’t get much. Say, are you 
fellows — twins, or what ? ’ ’ 

“Twins?” repeated Laurie. “Where do you 
get that stuff? This fellow’s name is Anderson 
and mine ’s Stenman. What ’s yours?” 

‘ ‘ Crow. Honest, is that a fact ? ’ ’ Crow looked 
appealingly at the other occupants of the table. 
These, however, two rather embarrassed-looking 
youngsters of fourteen or thereabouts, fixed their 
eyes on their plates, and Crow turned his regard 
incredulously back to the twins. “Gee, you fel- 
lows look enough alike to be — be — ” He swal- 
lowed the word. “Are n’t you even related?” 

Ned gazed speculatively at Laurie and Laurie 
gazed speculatively at Ned. “We might be,” 
hazarded the latter. 

Laurie nodded. “If we went back far enough, 
we might find a common ancestor.” 

The arrival of luncheon caused a diversion, al- 
though Crow, who was a round-faced, credulous- 
looking youth of perhaps seventeen, continued to 


THE GIRL IN THE WHITE MIDDY 23 


regard them surreptitiously and in puzzlement. 
At last, making the passing of the salt an excuse 
for further conversation, he asked, ‘‘Where do 
you fellows come fromT’ 

“California,’’ said Ned. 

“Santa Lucia,” said Laurie. 

“Well, but,” sputtered Crow, “is n’t California 
in Santa — I mean, isn’t Santa — Say,*you guys 
are joking, I ’ll bet!” 

“Methinks,” observed Ned, helping himself 
gravely to mustard, “his words sound coarse and 
vulgar. ’ ’ 

Laurie abstractedly added a fourth teaspoon of 
sugar to his iced tea. “Like Turk or Kurd or 
even Bulgar,” he murmured. 

Crow stared, grunted, and pushed his chair 
back. “You fellows think you ’re smart, don’t 
you?” he sputtered. “Bet you you are twins — 
both of you!” 

Ned and Laurie looked after him in mild and 
patient surprise until his broad back had disap- 
peared from view. Then a choking sound came 
from one of the younger lads, and Ned asked 
gently, “Now what ’s your trouble, son?” 

The boy grew very red of face and gave way 
to giggles. “I knew all the time you were 
twins,” he gasped. 

“Did you really?” exclaimed Laurie. “Well, 
listen. Just as a favor to us, don’t say anything 
about it, eh? You see, we ’re sort of — sort of — ” 


24 


THE TUENER TWINS 


^‘Sort of sensitive/’ aided Ned. “We ’d rather 
it wasn’t generally known. You understand, 
don’t you?” 

The boy looked as if he was very far indeed 
from understanding, but he nodded, choked again, 
and muttered something that seemed to indicate 
that the secret was safe with him. Laurie 
thanked him gratefully. 

After luncheon they went sight-seeing about the 
school, snooped through the dim corridors and 
empty class-rooms of School Hall, viewed the 
gymnasium and experimented with numerous ap- 
paratus, and finally, after browsing through a 
flower and vegetable garden behind the recitation 
building and watching two boys make a pretense 
of playing tennis, returned to Number 16 in the 
hope of finding their trunks. But the baggage 
had not arrived, and presently, since the room 
was none too cool, they descended again and fol- 
lowed the curving drive to the right and past a 
sign that said “Exit Only” and wandered west 
on Summit Street. 

For the middle of September in the latitude of 
southern New York the weather was decidedly 
warm, and neither grass nor trees hinted that 
autumn had arrived. In the well-kept gardens 
across the way, scarlet sage and cosmos, asters 
and dahlias made riots of color. 

“Hot!” grunted Ned, running a finger around 
the inside of his collar. 


THE GIRL IN THE WHITE MIDDY 25 


‘‘Beastly/’ agreed Laurie, removing his cap 
and fanning his heated face. “Wonder where 
the river is. If we had our bathing-suits, maybe 
we could go for a swim.” 

“Yes, and if we had a cake of ice we could sit 
on it!” responded Ned, sarcastically. “This 
place is hotter than Santa Lucia.” 

At the next corner they turned again to the 
right. Morton Street, like so many of the streets 
in Orstead, refused to go straight, and after a few 
minutes, to their mild bewilderment, they found 
themselves on Walnut Street once more, a block 
below the school. 

“I ’m not going back yet,” said Laurie, firmly. 
“Let ’s find a place where we can get something 
cool to drink. ’ ’ 

As Walnut Street was unpromising, they 
crossed it and meandered along Garden Street. 
The houses here appeared to be less prosperous, 
and the front yards were less likely to hold lawn 
and flowers than dilapidated baby-carriages. At 
the first crossing they peered right and left, and 
were rewarded by the sight of a swinging sign at 
a little distance. 

What the sign said was as yet a mystery, for 
the trees intervened, but Laurie declared that he 
believed in signs and they made their way to- 
ward it. It finally proved to be a very cheerful 
little sign hung above a little white door in a 
little pale-blue two-story house, the lower floor 


26 THE TURNER TWINS 

of which was plainly devoted to commercial 
purposes. 


L. S. DEANE 
BOOKS, TOYS, AND 
CONFECTIONERY 
CIRCULATING LIBRARY 
LAUNDRY AGENCY 
TONICS 

That is what the sign said in red letters on a 
white background. The windows, many paned, 
allowed uncertain glimpses of various articles: 
tops of red and blue and green, boxes of pencils, 
pads of paper, jars of candy, many bottles of ink, 
a catcher's glove, a dozen tennis-balls, some paper 
kites — 

Laurie dragged Ned inside, through a screen 
door that, on opening, caused a bell to tinkle some- 
where in the farther recesses of the little build- 
ing. It was dark inside, after the glare of the 
street, and refreshingly cool. Laurie, leading the 
way, collided with a bench, caromed off the end 
of a counter, and became aware of a figure, dimly 
seen, beyond the width of a show-case. 

‘‘Have you anything cold to drink? asked 
Ned, leaning across the show-case. 

“Ginger-ale or tonic or something? Laurie 
elaborated. 

“Yes, indeed,’’ replied the apparition, in a 


THE GIRL IN THE WHITE MIDDY 27 


strangely familiar voice. ‘Hf you will step over 
to the other side, please — ’’ 

Ned and Laurie leaned farther across the show- 
case. 

It was the girl in the white middy dress. 


CHAPTER III 


CAKES AND A.LE 

<< T T ELLO!^^ exclaimed the twins, in one voice. 

Hello,’’ replied the girl, and they sus- 
pected that she was smiling, although their eyes 
were still too unused to the dimness of the little 
store for them to be certain. She was still only 
a vague figure in white, with a deeper blur where 
her face should have been. Treading on each 
other’s heels, Ned and Laurie followed her to the 
other side. The twilight brightened and objects 
became more distinct. They were in front of a 
sort of trough-like box in which, half afloat in a 
pool of ice-water, were bottles of tonic and soda 
and ginger-ale. Behind it was a counter on which 
reposed a modest array of pastry. 

^‘What do you want?” asked the girl in the 
middy. 

‘‘Ginger-ale,” answered Ned. ‘‘Say, do you 
live here?” 

“No, this is the shop,” was the reply. “I live 
upstairs.” 

“Oh, well, you know what I mean,” muttered 
Ned. “Is this your store?” 

“It ’s my mother’s. I help in it afternoons. 

28 


CAKES AND ALE 29 

My mother is Mrs. Deane. The boys call her the 
Widow. I Polly Deane.” 

“Pleased to know you,” said Laurie. “Our 
name ’s Turner. I ^m Laurie and he ’s Ned. 
Let me open that for you.” 

“Oh, no, thanks. I Ve opened hundreds of 
them. Oh dear! You said ginger-ale, didn^t 
you? And I We opened a root-beer. It ’s so 
dark in here in the afternoon.” 

“That ^s all right,” Ned assured her. “We 
like root-beer. We ’d just as soon have it as 
ginger-ale. W ould n ’t we, Laurie ? ’ ^ 

“You* bet! We ’re crazy about it.” 

“Are you sure? It ’s no trouble to — Well, 
this is ginger-ale, anyway. I ’m awfully sorry ! ’ ’ 

“What do we care?” asked Ned. “We don’t 
own it.” 

“Don’t own it?” repeated Polly, in a puzzled 
tone. 

“That ’s just an expression of his,” explained 
Laurie. “He ’s awfully slangy. I try to break 
him of it, but it ’s no use. It ’s fierce.” 

“Of course you don’t use slang?” asked Polly, 
demurely. “YHio wants the root-beer?” 

“You take it,” said Laurie, hurriedly. 

“No, you,” said Ned. “You ’re fonder of it 
than I am, Laurie. I don’t mind, really!” 

Laurie managed a surreptitious kick on his 
brother’s shin. “Tell you what,” he exclaimed, 
“we ’ll mix ’em!” 


30 


THE TURNER TWINS 

Ned agreed, tlioiigli not enthusiastically, and 
with the aid of a third glass the deed was done. 
The boys tasted experimentally, each asking a 
question over the rim of his glass. Then looks 
of relief came over both faces and they sighed 
'ecstatically. 

‘‘Corking!’' they breathed in unison. 

Polly laughed. “I never knew any one to do 
that before,” she said. “I 'm glad you like it. 
I ’ll tell the other boys about it. ’ ’ 

“No, you mustn’t,” protested Ned. “It ’s our 
invention. We ’ll call it — call it — ” 

“Call it an Accident,” suggested Laurie. 

“We ’ll call it a Polly,” continued the other. 
“It really is bully. It ’s — it ’s different; isn’t 
it, Laurie? Have another?” 

“Who were those on?” was the suspicious 
reply. 

“You. The next is on me. Only maybe an- 
other wouldn’t taste so good, eh?” 

“Don’t you fool yourself! I ’ll risk that.” 

However, the third and fourth bottles, properly 
combined though they were, lacked novelty, and it 
was some time before the last glass was emptied. 
Meanwhile, of course, they talked. The boys ac- 
knowledged that, so far, they liked what they had 
seen of the school. Mention of the doctor and 
Miss Hillman brought forth warm praise from 
Polly. “Every one likes the doctor ever so 
much,” she declared. “And Miss Tabitha is — ” 


CAKES AND ALE 


31 


‘‘Miss what?^’ interrupted Laurie. 

“Miss Tabitha. That ’s her name.’’ Polly 
laughed softly. ‘ ‘ They call her Tabby, — the boys, 
I mean, — but they like her. She ’s a dear, even if 
she does look sort of — of cranky. She isn’t, 
though, a bit. She makes believe she ’s awfully 
stern, but she ’s just as soft as — as — ” 

“As Laurie’s head?” offered Ned, helpfully. 
“Say, you sell ’most everything here, don’t you? 
Are those cream-puffs?” 

Ned slipped a hand into his pocket and Laurie 
coughed furiously. Ned’s hand came forth 
empty. He turned away from temptation. 
“They look mighty good,” he said. “If we ’d 
seen those before we ’d had all that ginger-ale — ” 
Polly spoke detachedly. “You can have credit 
if you like,” she said, placing the empty bottles 
aside. “The doctor lets the boys run bills here 
up to a dollar. They can’t go over a dollar, 
though.” 

“Personally,” observed Laurie, jingling some 
coins in a trousers pocket, “I prefer to pay cash. 
Still, there are times — ” 

“Yes, a fellow gets short now and then,” said 
Ned, turning for another look at the pastry 
counter. “Maybe, just for — for convenience, it 
would be a good plan to have an account here, 
Laurie. Sometimes a fellow forgets to put any 
money in his pocket, you know. Does your 
mother make these?” 


32 


THE TUENER TWINS 


‘‘Yes, the cream-cakes, and some of the others. 
The rest Miss Comfort makes. 

“That ’s another funny name,’’ said Laurie. 
“Who is Miss Comfort?” 

“She ’s — she ’s just Miss Comfort, I guess,” 
replied Polly. “She lives on the next corner, in 
the house with the white shutters. She ’s quite 
old, almost seventy, I suppose, and she makes the 
nicest cake in Orstead. Everybody goes to her 
for cakes. That ’s the way she lives, I guess.” 

“Maybe we ’d ought to help her,” suggested 
Ned, mentally choosing the largest and fattest 
cakes on the tray. “I guess we ’ll take a couple. 
How much are they?” 

‘ ‘ Six cents apiece, ’ ’ said Polly. ‘ ‘ Do you want 
them in a bag?” 

“No, thanks.” Ned handed one of the cakes to 
Laurie; “we ’ll eat them now.” Then, between 
mouthfuls: “Maybe you ’d better charge this to 
us. If we ’re going to open an account, we might 
as well do it now, don’t you think?” 

Polly retired behind a counter and produced a 
long and narrow book, from which dangled a lead- 
pencil at the end of a string. She put the tip of 
the pencil between her lips and looked across. 
“You ’d better tell me your full names, I think.” 

“Edward Anderson Turner and — ” 

“I meant just your first names.” 

“Oh! Edward and Laurence. You can charge 
us each with two bottles and one cake.” 


CAKES AND ALE 33 

‘‘I like that!’’ scoffed Laurie. ‘‘Thought you 
were treating to cakes 1 ’ ’ 

“Huh! Don’t you want to help Miss Comfort? 
I should think you ’d like to — to do a charitable 
act once in a while.” 

“Don’t see what difference it makes to her,” 
grumbled Laurie, “whether you pay for both or 
I pay for one. She gets her money just the 
same. ’ ’ 

Ned brushed a crumb from his jacket. “You 
don’t get the idea,” he replied gently. “Of 
course, I might pay for both, but you wouldn’t 
feel right about it, Laurie.” 

“Wouldn’t I? Where do you get that stuff? 
You try it and see.” Laurie spoke grimly, but 
not hopefully. Acros/s the counter, Polly was 
giggling over the account-book. 

“You ’re the funniest boys I ever did see,” she 
explained, in answer to their inquiring looks. 
“You — ^you say such funny things!” 

Before she could elucidate, footsteps sounded in 
the room behind the store and a tiny white-haired 
woman appeared. In spite of her hair, she 
couldn’t have been very old, for her face was 
plump and unwrinkled and her cheeks quite rosy. 
Seeing the customers, she bowed prettily and 
said “Grood afternoon” in a very sweet voice. 

“Good afternoon,” returned the twins. 

“Mama, these are the Turner boys,” said Polly. 
“One of them is Ned and the other is Laurie, but 


34 


THE TURNER TWINS 


I don’t know whicli, because they look just ex- 
actly alike. They — they ’re twins ! ^ ^ 

want to know!’^ said Mrs. Deane. ‘‘Isn’t 
that nice? I ’m very pleased to meet you, young 
gentlemen. I hope Polly has served you with 
what you wanted. My stock is kind of low 
just now. You see, we don’t have many custom- 
ers in summer, and it ’s very hard to get things, 
nowadays, even if you do pay three times what 
they ’re worth. Polly, those ice-cream cones 
never did come, did they?” 

“Gee, do you have ice-cream?” asked Ned, 
eagerly. 

“Never you mind I” said Laurie, grabbing his 
arm. “You come on out of here before you die 
on my hands. I ’m sorry to teU you, ma’am, that 
he does n ’t know when to stop eating. I have to 
go around everywhere with him and look after 
him. If I didn’t, he ’d be dead in no time.” 

“I want to know!” exclaimed the Widow Deane 
interestedly. “Why, it ’s very fortunate for him 
he has you, is n ’t it ? ” 

“Yes ’m,” answered Laurie, but he spoke 
doubtfully, for the little white-haired lady seemed 
to hide a laugh behind her words. Ned was 
grinning. Laurie propelled him to the door. 
Then, without relinquishing his grasp, he doffed 
his cap. 

“Good afternoon,” he said. “We ’ll come 
again.” 


CAKES AND ALE 35 

‘‘We know not how,’^ added Ned, “we know 
not when. ’ ^ 

“Bless my soul!’’ murmured the Widow, as the 
screen door swung behind them. 

Back at school, the twins found a different scene 
from what they had left. The grounds were 
populous with boys, and open windows in the two 
dormitory buildings showed many others. The 
entrances were piled with trunks and more were 
arriving. A rattling taxi turned in at the gate, 
with much blowing of a frenzied but bronchial 
horn, and added five merry youths to the popula- 
tion. Ned and Laurie made their way to East 
Hall, conscious, as they approached, of many eyes 
focussed on them from wide-flung windows. Ee- 
marks reached them, too. 

“See who ’s with us !” came from a second-floor 
casement above the entrance ; ‘ ‘ the two Dromios 1 ’ ’ 

“Tweedledum and Tweedledee!” 

“The Siamese Twins, I ’ll bet a cooky!” 

“Hi, East Hall! Heads out!” 

The two were glad when they reached the shel- 
ter of the doorway. “Some one ’s going to get 
his head punched before long,” growled Ned, as 
they started upstairs. 

“What do we care? We don’t own ’em. Let 
them have their fun, Neddie.” 

“I ’ll let some of them have a wallop,” was the 
answer. “You ’d think we were the first pair of 
twins they ’d ever seen!” 


36 


THE TURNER TWINS 


‘^Well, maybe we are. How do you know! 
Suppose those trunks have come?^’ 

They had, and for the next hour the twins were 
busy unpacking and getting settled. From be- 
yond their door came sounds of much turmoil ; the 
noise of arriving baggage, the banging of doors, 
shouts, whistling, singing; but they were other- 
wise undisturbed until, just when Laurie had 
slammed down the lid of his empty trunk, there 
came a knock at their portal, followed, before 
either one could open his mouth in response, by 
the appearance in the doorway of a bulky ap- 
parition in a gorgeous crimson bath-robe. 

‘‘Hello, fellows I greeted the apparition. 
“Salutations and everything ! ^ ^ 



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CHAPTER IV 


KEWPIE STAHTS SOMETHING 

T he twins stared silently and suspiciously for 
an instant. Then Ned made cautious re- 
sponse. 

‘‘Hello,” he said, with what must have seemed 
to the visitor a lamentable lack of cordiality. 

The latter pushed the door shut behind him by 
the kick of one stockinged foot, and grinned jo- 
vially. “My name ’s Proudtree,” he announced. 
“You canT blame us,” replied Laurie, coldly. 
Proudtree laughed amiably. “It is a rotten 
name, isn’t it? I live across the corridor, you 
know. Thought I ’d drop in and get acquainted, 
seeing you ’re new fellows; extend the hand of 
friendship and all that. You understand. By 
Jove, Pringle was right, too!” 

“That ’s fine,” said Ned, with more than a 
trace of sarcasm. “What about?” 

“Why,” answered Proudtree, easing his gen- 
erous bulk into a chair, “he said you fellows were 
twins. ’ ’ 

“Not only were,” said Laurie, gently, “but 
are. Don’t mind, do you?” 

“Oh, come otf your horse,” begged the visitor. 
37 


38 


THE TURNEE TWINS 


^‘Don^t be so cocky. Who ’s said anything? I 
just wanted to have a look. Never saw any twins 
before — grown-up twins, I mean. You under- 
stand. ’ ^ 

‘‘Thought you said you came to extend the 
hand of friendship,^’ retorted Ned, sarcastically. 
“Well, have a good look, partner. There ’s no 
charge ! ’ ’ 

Proudtree grinned and accepted the invitation. 
Ned fumed silently under the inspection, but 
Laurie’s sense of humor came to his aid. Proud- 
tree appeared to be getting a lot of entertainment 
from his silent comparison of his hosts, and pres- 
ently, when Ned’s exasperation had just about 
reached the explosive point, he chuckled. 

“I ’ve got it,” he said. 

“Got what?” Laurie asked. 

“The — the clue! I know how to tell you 
apart ! His eyes are different from yours ; more 
blue. Yours are sort of gray. But, gee\vhilli- 
kins, it must be a heap of fun! Being twins, I 
mean. And fooling people. You understand.” 

“Well, if you ’re quite through,” snapped Ned, 
“maybe you ’ll call it a day. We ’ve got things 
to do.” 

“Meaning you ’d like me to beat it?” asked 
the visitor, good-temperedly. 

“Just that!” 

“Oh, come, Ned,” Laurie protested, soothingly, 


KEWPIE STAETS SOMETHING 39 


‘‘he all right. I dare say we are sort of freak- 
ish and — ’’ 

“Sure,’^ agreed Proudtree, eagerly, “that ’s 
what I meant. But s^y, I did nT -mean to hurt 
any one ^s feelings. Geewhillikins, if I got waxy 
every time the fellows josh me about being fat — 
Words failed him and he sighed deeply. 

Laurie laughed. “We might start a side-show, 
the three of us, and make a bit of money. ‘Only 
ten cents ! One dime ! This way to the Siamese 
Twins and the Fat Boy! Walk up! Walk 
up!’ ” 

Proudtree smiled wanly. “I only weigh a 
hundred and seventy-eight and three quarters, 
too,” he said dolorously. “If I was a couple of 
inches taller it wouldn’t be so bad.” 

“I don’t think it ’s bad as it is,” said Laurie, 
kindly. “You don’t look really fat; you just 
look sort of — of — ” 

“Amplitudinous,” supplied Ned, with evident 
satisfaction. 

Proudtree viewed him doubtfully. Then he 
smiled. “Well, I ’ve got to get rid of nearly 
fifteen pounds in the next two weeks,” he said, 
with a shake of his head, “and that ’s going to 
take some doing.” 

“What for?” Laurie asked. “Why destroy 
your symmetry?” 

“Football. I ’m trying for center. I nearly 


40 


THE TURNER TWINS 


made it last year, but Wiggins beat me out. He 
gone now, though, and Mulford as good as said 
last spring that I could make it this fall if I could 
get down to a hundred and sixty-five. ^ ^ 

‘‘Who ^s Mulford?^’ inquired Ned. “A for- 
tune-teller 

Proudtree ignored the sarcasm. “Mulford ’s 
our coach. He ’s all right, too. The trouble with 
me is, I ’m a^vfully fond of sweet things, and I — 
I We been eating a lot of ’em lately. But I guess 
I can drop fourteen pounds if I cut out pies and 
candy and things. Don’t you think so!” Proud- 
tree appealed to Laurie almost pathetically. 

“Don’t let any one tell you anything differ- 
ent,” replied Laurie, reassuringly. Ned, evi- 
dently recovered from his peevishness, asked: 

“What sort of football do they play here?” 

“Corking!” answered Proudtree. 

“I mean, Rugby or the other?” 

“Rugby!” exclaimed Proudtree, scornfully. 
“I guess not! We play regular football. No- 
body plays Rugby around these parts. Are you 
fellows going out?” 

“Not just yet,” replied Ned. 

“He means are we going to try for the foot- 
ball team,” explained Laurie. “Yes, we are, 
Proudtree; at least, one of us is.” 

“You?” 

“We haven’t decided yet. You see, we ’ve 
never played your kind of football. Back home, 


KEWPIE STAETS SOMETHING 41 


at high school, we played American Eugby, and 
it ^8 quite different. But we decided that one of 
us had better go in for football and the other for 
baseball, if only to do our duty by the school.^’ 

Proudtree looked puzzled. ‘‘How are you 
going to decider’ he asked. 

“Oh, we ’ll toss up or draw lots or something, 
I suppose. Maybe, though, Ned had better play 
football, because I know more baseball than he 
does. Still, I ’m not particular.” 

“That ’s the limit!” chuckled the visitor. 
“Say, what are your names! I didn’t see any 
cards on the door.” 

“Turner. His is Laurie and mine ’s Ned,” 
answered the latter. “Do we put our names on 
the door!” 

“It ’s the best way,” answered Proudtree. 
“Well, I ’ve got to be moving. I started to take 
a shower and got side-tracked. You chaps come 
on over and see me and I ’U get some of the other 
fellows in. You want to meet the right sort, 
you know. What ’s your class!” 

‘ ‘ Lower middle, I reckon, ’ ’ said Ned. “ That ’s 
what we expect.” 

“Too bad you can’t make upper. That ’s mine. 
We ’ve got a corking bunch of fellows this year. 
Well, see you later. Try for Mr. Barrett’s table 
when you go down. That ’s the best. Maybe 
they ’ll put you there if you bluff it out. You un- 
derstand. So long, fellows.” 


42 


THE TURNER TWINS 


Proudtree withdrew with considerable dignity 
in view of his bulk, waving a benedictory hand ere 
the door closed behind him. Ned shook his head. 
^‘Sort of a fresh hombre,’^ he said. 

‘‘Oh, he only meant to be friendly, I reckon, 
said Laurie. “You understand.’’ 

Ned laughed. “I ’ll bet they ’ve got a wonder- 
ful football team here if he plays on it ! By the 
way, maybe we ’d better settle which of us is to 
be the football star. I suppose they begin to 
practise pretty soon. I ’ll be the goat, if you 
like; though you had better luck with that book 
you bought in Chicago. I could n’t make head or 
tail of it. I never saw so many rules for playing 
one game in my life!” 

“It was sort of difficult,” agreed Laurie. “I 
dare say, though, that you pick up the rules quick 
enough when you start to play. If you don’t 
really mind, I think you ’d better go in for foot- 
ball, and I ’ll do the baseball stunt. I ’ve played 
it more than you have, you know, even if I ’m no 
wonder. ’ ’ 

“All right!” Ned sighed. “We ’ll get a bot- 
tle of arnica to-morrow. Nothing like being pre- 
pared. How about going to see Mr. What’s-his- 
name before supper about courses?” 

“Might as well, and have it over with. I ’d 
like to know whether we ’re going to make the 
lower middle. ’ ’ 

“DonT see what else we can make. They can’t 


KEWPIE STAETS SOMETHING 43 


stick us in the junior class. Where ^s my coat? 
For the love of lemons, Laurie, canT you find 
anything else to sit on? Gosh, look at the 
wrinkles 

‘‘Those aren’t wrinkles; they ’re just creases. 
Come on!” 

Half an hour later they closed the door of Mr. 
Cornish’s study on the floor below, in a chastened 
mood. Each carried a little butf card whereon 
the instructor had tabulated an amazing number 
and variety of study periods. Back in Number 
16, Ned cast himself into a chair, thrust his legs 
forth, and gazed disconsolately at the card. 

“I don’t see where a fellow finds time for any- 
thing but work here, ’ ’ he complained. ‘ ‘ Sixteen, 
eighteen, twenty-one hours a week ! What do you 
know about that?” 

“Well, don’t be so proud of it. I ’ve got the 
same, have n ’t I ? I wonder how many hours he 
thinks there are in a day?^’ 

“I tell you what I think,” said Ned, after a 
moment’s thought. “I think he got it into his 
head that we ’re very ambitious and want to grad- 
uate next spring!” 

“Maybe that ’s it,” agreed Laurie, gravely. 
“Shall we go back and tell him he ’s wrong?” 

“N-no, let ’s not. He seemed a well-meaning 
old codger, and I would n’t want to hurt his feel- 
ings — if he has any. Let ’s go down and see 
what they ’ve got for supper.’^ 


44 


THE TURNER TWINS 


Ned^s blandishments failed with the waitress, 
and they were established at a table presided over 
by a tall and very thin gentleman, whose name, 
as they learned presently, was Mr. Brock. There 
were four tables in the room, each accommodating 
ten boys and a member of the faculty. Diagon- 
ally across the dining-hall, the twins descried the 
ample Mr. Proudtree. Another table was in 
charge of a pleasant-faced woman who proved 
to be the school matron, Mrs. Wyman. Mr. Corn- 
ish, the hall master, and Mr. Barrett sat at the 
heads of the remaining boards. 

The room was very attractive, with a fine big 
stone fireplace at the farther end, and broad win- 
dows on two sides. The food proved plain, but 
it was served in generous quantities; and not- 
withstanding that the twins were a bit self- 
conscious, they managed a very satisfactory 
meal. 

Their fellow-students seemed to be a very de- 
cent lot. Their ages appeared to average about 
sixteen, and they had the clean, healthy look of 
boys who spent much of their time outdoors. At 
the table at which the twins sat, four of the boys 
were evidently seniors, and one was as evidently 
a junior. The latter looked hardly more than 
thirteen, though he was in reality a year older 
than that, and had the features and expression of 
a cherub. The twins concluded that he was a new 
boy and felt a little sorry for him. He looked 


KEWPIE STARTS SOMETHING 45 

much too young and innocent to face the world 
alone. 

No one made any special effort to engage either 
Ned or Laurie in conversation, perhaps because 
the returning youths had so much to talk about 
among themselves. Mr. Brock ate his supper in 
silence, save when one of the older boys ad- 
dressed him, and had a far-away and abstracted 
air. Laurie saw him sweeten his tea three times, 
and then frown in annoyance when he finally 
tasted it. 

The boy who had guessed their awful secret 
at luncheon sat at the next table, and more 
than once Ned caught him looking across with a 
half-bewildered, half -frightened expression that 
somehow managed to convey the intelligence that, 
in spite of temptation, he had kept the faith. 
Ned finally rewarded him with a significant wink, 
and the youth retired in confusion behind the 
milk-pitcher. 

When the meal was over the twins went out- 
side and, following the example set by others, 
made themselves comfortable on the grass be- 
yond the walk. Near by, two older boys were 
conversing earnestly, and Ned and Laurie, hav- 
ing exhausted their own subjects of conversation, 
found themselves listening. 

^‘We Ve got to do it,’’ the larger of the two 
was saying. ‘^Dave ’s going to call a meeting of 
the school for Friday evening, and Mr. Wells is 


46 THE TURNER TWINS 

going to talk to them. I ’ll talk too. Maybe 
you ’d better, Frank. You can tell them a funny 
story and get them feeling generous.” 

‘‘Nothing doing, Joe. Leave me out of it. I 
never could talk from a platform. Anyway, it ’s 
the fellows’ duty to provide money. If they 
don’t, they won’t have a team. They under- 
stand that — or they will when you tell them. 
There ’s another thing, though, Joe, that we ’ve 
got to have besides money, and that ’s material. 
We ’ve got to get more fellows out.” 

“I know. I ’ll tell them that, too. I ’m go- 
ing to put a notice up in School Hall in the morn- 
ing. Mr. Cummins says there are eight new fel- 
lows entering the middle classes this year. 
Maybe some of them are football-players.” 

“Bound to be. Did you see the twins?” 

“No, but Billy Emerson was telling me about 
them. What do they look like?” 

“Not bad. Rather light-weight, though, and 
sort of slow. They ’re from Arizona or some- 
where out that way, I think. You can’t tell them 
apart, Joe.” 

“Think they ’re football stutf?” 

‘ ‘ Search me. Might be. They ’re light, though. 
Here comes Kewpie. Gosh, he ’s fatter than 
ever! Hi, Kewpie! Come over here!” 

It was Proudtree who answered the hail, de- 
scended the steps, and approached. “Hello, Joe! 
Hello, Frank! Well, here we are again, eh? 


KEWPIE STAETS SOMETHING '47 

Great to be back, is n^t it? Have a good summer, 
Joe?’^ 

''Fine! You?'' 

^‘Corking! I was on Dad’s yacht all through 
August. Saw the races and everything. Bully 
eats, too. You understand.” 

‘^Yes,” Joe Stevenson replied, ‘^and I under- 
stand why you ’re about twenty pounds over- 
weight, Kewpie ! You ought to be kicked around 
the yard, you fat loafer. Thought you wanted 
to play center this fall.” 

“I ’m going to! Listen, Joe, I ’m only four- 
teen pounds over and I ’ll drop that in no time. 
Honest, I will. You see! Besides, it isn’t all 
fat, either. A lot of it ’s good, hard muscle.” 

‘^Yes, it is! I can see you getting muscle lying 
around on your father’s yacht! I ’m off you, 
Kewpie. You haven’t acted square. You knew 
mighty well that you were supposed to keep your- 
self fit this summer, and now look at you! 
You ’re a big fat lump!” 

^‘Aw, say, Joe! Listen, will you?” Proud- 
tree’s gaze wandered in search of inspiration and 
fell on the twins. His face lighted. ‘‘Hello, you 
chaps ! ” he said. Then he leaned over and spoke 
to Joe. “Say, have you met the Turner bro- 
thers, Joe? One of ’em ’s a swell player. Played 
out in North Dakota or somewhere.” 

“Which one?” asked Joe, surreptitiously eying 
the twins. 


48 


THE TURNER TWINS 


^‘Why, the — I forget: they look so much alike, 
you know. I think it *s the one this way. Or 
maybe it ’s the other. Anyway, I 11 fetch them 
over, ehU’ 

‘^All right, Kewpie.’’ 

Kewpie started away, paused, and spoke again. 
‘‘They ^re — they ’re awfully modest chaps, Joe. 
You ’d think from hearing them talk that they 
didn’t know much about the game, but don’t you 
be fooled. That ’s just their way. You under- 
stand. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Oh, sure, Kewpie ! ’ ’ And when the latter had 
gone on his errand Joe smiled and, lowering his 
voice, said to Frank Brattle: “Kewpie ’s trying 
to put something over. I wonder what.” 

“Proudtree tells me one of you fellows plays 
football,” said Joe, a minute later, when intro- 
ductions had been performed and Ned and Laurie 
had seated themselves. “We need good players 
this fall. Of course, I hope you ’ll both come 
out.” 

“Ned ’s the football chap,” said Laurie. 
“Baseball ’s my line.” 

“I don’t know — ” began Ned, but Laurie 
pinched him wamingly, and he gulped and, to 
Kewpie ’s evident relief, made a fresh start. 
“I ’m not much of a player,” he said modestly, 
“but I ’m willing to have a try at it.” 

Kewpie darted an “I-told-you-so” glance at 
Joe and Frank. 


KEWPIE STAETS SOMETHING 49 


Where do you come from, Turner T’ Joe 
asked politely. 

Santa Lucia, California. I was in the high 
school there two years. Everything ’s quite — 
quite different here.^’ Ned spoke hurriedly, as 
though anxious to switch the conversation from 
football, and Laurie smiled in wicked enjoyment. 
‘‘The climate ^s different, you know,” Ned went 
on desperately, “and the country and — and 
everything. ’ ^ 

“I suppose so,” said Frank Brattle. ‘^‘What ’s 
your position. Turner?” 

“Position?” 

“ Yes ; I mean, where did you play? Behind the 
line, I suppose, or maybe end.” 

“Oh, yes, yes, behind the line. You see, I — 
I—” 

“There are n’t many fellows can play half-back 
the way Ned can,” said Laurie, gravely. “He 
won’t tell you so, but if you ever meet any one 
who saw him play against Weedon School last 
year — ” 

“Shut up!” begged Ned, almost tearfully. 

Kewpie was grinning delightedly. Joe Ste- 
venson viewed Ned with absolute affection. 
“Half-back, eh? Well, we can use another good 
half. Turner, and I hope you ’re the fellow. I 
don’t know whether Kewpie told you that I ’m 
captain this year, but I am, and I ^m going to try 
mighty hard to captain a winning team. You 


50 


THE TURNEE TWINS 


look a bit light, but I dare say you ’re fast, and, 
for my part, I like them that way. Besides, 
we Ve got Mason and Boessel if we want the 
heavy sort. Practice starts to-morrow at four, 
by the way. How about your brother? Glad to 
have him come out, too. Even if he hasn’t 
played, he might learn the trick. And there ’s 
next year to think of, you know.” 

‘ ‘ I think not, thanks, ’ ’ answered Laurie. ‘ ‘ One 
football star is enough in the family.” 

‘^Well, if you change your mind, come on and 
have a try. Glad to have met you. See you to- 
morrow — er — Turner. I want to find Dave, 
Frank. Coming along?” 

■ The two older boys made off toward West Hall, 
and as soon as they were out of hearing Ned 
turned indignantly on Laurie. 

‘‘You’re a nice one!” he hissed. “Look at 
the hole you’ve got me in! ‘Half-back’! 
‘Played against Weedon School’! What did you 
want to talk that way for? Why, those fellows 
think I know football ! ’ ’ 

“Cheer up,” answered his brother, grinning. 
“All you ’ve got to do is bluff it through. Be- 
sides, Proudtree asked us not to let on we didn’t 
know a football from a doughnut, and I had to say 
something! You acted as if you were tongue- 
tied!” 

“Yes; that ’s so — ^you started it!” Ned turned 
belliger^mly around. ‘ ‘ Said it would be a favor 


KEWPIE STAETS SOMETHING 51 


to you — He stopped, discovering that Proud- 
tree had silently disappeared and that he was 
wasting his protests on the empty air. ^^Huh!^' 
he resumed after a moment of surprise, ‘4t ^s a 
good thing he did beat it! Look here, Laurie, 
I ’m in a beast of a mess. Yow know I can^t face 
that captain chap to-morrow. Suppose he handed 
me a football and told me to kick it 1’^ 

‘‘He won’t. I Ve watched football practice 
back home. You ’ll stand around in a circle — ” 

“How the dickens can I stand in a circle?’^ ob- 
jected Ned. 

“And pass a football for a while. Then you ’ll 
try starting, and maybe fall on the ball a few 
times, until you ’re nice and lame, and after that 
you ’ll run around the track) half a dozen 
times — ” 

“Oh, shut up! You make me sick! I won’t 
do it. I ’m through. I ’d look fine, wouldn’t I? 
I guess not, partner!” 

“You ’ve got to, Ned,” replied Laurie calmly. 
“You can’t back down now. The honor of the 
Turners is at stake ! Come on up and I ’ll read 
that rules book to you. Maybe some of it ’ll seep 
in!” 

After a moment of indecision Ned arose and 
followed silently. 


CHAPTER V 


IN THE PERFORMANCE OF DUTY 

S CHOOL began in earnest the next morning. 

Ned and Lanrie were awakened from a deep 
slumber by the imperative clanging of a gong. 
There were hurried trips to the bath-room, and 
finally a descent to the recreation-room and 
morning prayers. Breakfast followed in the 
pleasant, sunlit dining-hall, and at half -past eight 
the twins went to their first class. There was nT 
much real work performed that morning, how- 
ever. Books were bought and, being again in 
possession of funds, Ned purchased lavishly of 
stationery and supplies. He had a veritable 
passion for patent binders, scratch-pads, blank- 
books, and pencils, and Laurie viewed the result 
of a half-hour’s mad career with unconcealed 
concern. 

‘‘You’re all wrong, Ned,” he said earnestly. 
“We aren’t opening a stationery emporium. 
Besides, we can’t begin to compete with the office. 
They buy at wholesale, and — ” 

“Never mind the comedy. You ’ll be helping 
yourself to these things soon enough, and then 
you won’t be so funny.” 

52 


IN THE PERFOEMANCE OF DUTY 53 


That ’s the only way they ’ll ever get used up I 
Why, you ’ve got enough truck there to last three 
years 

There was one interesting annual observance 
that morning that the twins witnessed inadver- 
tently. At a little after eight the fellows began 
to assemble in front of School Hall. Ned and 
Laurie, joining the throng, supposed that it was 
merely awaiting the half-hour, until presently 
there appeared at the gate a solitary youth of 
some fourteen years, who came up the circling 
drive about as joyfully as a French Royalist 
approaching the guillotine. Deep silence pre- 
vailed until the embarrassed and unhappy youth 
had conquered half of the interminable distance. 
Then a loud was heard, and the throng 

broke into a measured refrain: 

^^Eep!—Hep!—Hep!—Hep!^^ 

This was in time to the boy’s dogged steps. A 
look of consternation came into his face and he 
faltered. Then, however, he set his jaw, looked 
straight ahead, and came on determinedly. 

Up the steps he passed, a disk of color in each 
cheek, looking neither to right nor left, and passed 
from sight. As he did so, the chorus changed to 
a good-humored laugh of approval. Ned made 
inquiry of a youth beside him. 

“Day boy,” was the explanation. “There are 
ten of them, you know: fellows who live in 


54 THE TUENEK TWINS 

town. We always give them a welcome. That 
chap had spunk, but you wait and see some of 
them ! ^ ’ 

Two more followed together, and, each upheld 
in that moment of trial by the presence of the 
other, passed through the ordeal with flying 
colors. But the twins noted that the laughing 
applause was lacking. After that, the remain- 
ing seven arrived almost on each other’s heels 
and the air was filled with ^^Heps!^^ Some 
looked only surprised, others angry; but most of 
then grinned in a sickly, embarrassed way and 
went by with hanging heads. 

‘‘Sort of tough,” was Ned^s verdict, and Laurie 
agreed as they followed the last victim inside. 

“It looks as if day students weren’t popular,’^ 
he added. 

Later, though, he found that he was wrong. 
The boys who lived in the village were accepted 
without reservation, but, naturally enough, sel- 
dom attained to a full degree of intimacy with 
those who lived in the dormitories. 

By afternoon the twins had become well shaken 
down into the new life, had made several super- 
ficial acquaintances, and had begun to feel at 
home. Of Kewpie Proudtree they had caught 
but fleeting glimpses, for that youth displayed a 
tendency to keep at a distance. As the hour of 
four o’clock approached, Ned became more and 
more worried^ and his normally sunny counte- 


IN THE PERFORMANCE OP DUTY 55 


nance took on an expression of deep gloom. 
Lanrie kept close at his side, fearing that courage 
would fail and Ned would bring disgrace to the 
tribe of Turner. But Laurie ought to have 
known better, for Ned was never what his fellows 
would have called a ‘‘quitter.’’ Ned meant to 
see it through. His mind had retained very 
little of the football lore that his brother had 
poured into it the night before, but he had, at 
least, a somewhat clearer idea of the general prin- 
ciples of the game. He knew, for instance, that 
a team comprised eleven players instead of the 
twelve he had supposed, and that certain restric- 
tions governed the methods by which you might 
wrest the ball from an opponent. Thus, you 
could not legally snatch it out of his arms, nor 
trip him up in the hope that he would drop it. 
Ned thought the restrictions rather silly, but ac- 
cepted them. 

The athletic field, known in school parlance as 
the play-field, was even larger than it had looked 
from their windows. It held two gridirons and 
three baseball diamonds, as well as a quarter- 
mile track and ten tennis-courts. There was 
also a picturesque and well-appointed field-house 
and a fairly large grand stand. To Ned’s 
relief, most of the ninety students were in attend- 
ance, though only about forty of the number were 
in playing togs. Ned’s idea was that among so 
many lie might escape close observation. 


56 


THE TURNER TWINS 


He had, of course, handled a football more or 
less, and he was possessed of his full share of 
common sense. Besides, he had perhaps rather 
more than his share of assurance. To his own 
surprise, if not to Laurie’s, he got through the 
hour and a half of practice very creditably. Sea- 
soned candidates and novices were on the same 
plane to-day. There was, first of all, a talk by 
the coach. Mr. Mulford was a short, broad, 
good-humored man of about thirty, with a round 
and florid countenance, which possibly accounted 
for the nickname of ‘‘Pinky” that the school had 
affectionately awarded him. His real name was 
Stephen, and he had played guard, and played it 
well, for several years with Trinity College. 
This was his fourth season as football coach at 
Hillman’s and his third as baseball coach. So 
far he had been fairly successful in both sports. 

His talk was brief and earnest, although he 
smiled through it all. He wanted lots of ma- 
terial, but he didn’t want any fellow to report 
for practice who didn’t mean to do his level best 
and stick it out. Those who were afraid of 
either hard work or hard knocks had better save 
their time and his. Those who did report would 
get a fair trial and no favor. He meant to see 
the best team this fall that Hillman’s School had 
ever turned out, one that would start with a rush 
and finish with a bang, like a rocket! 

“And,” he went on, “I want this team made 


IN THE PERFORMANCE OF DUTY 57 


up the way a rocket is. A rocket is filled with 
stars, fellows, but you don’t realize it until the 
final burst. So we ’re going to put the soft pedal 
on individual brilliancy this year. It almost had 
us licked last fall, as you ’ll remember. This 
year we ’re going to try hard for a well-rounded 
team of hard workers, fellows who will interlock 
and gear together. It ’s the machine that wins, 
the machine of eleven parts that work all together 
in oil. We ’re going to find the eleven parts first, 
and after that we ’re going to do the oiling. All 
right now ! Ten men to a squad. Get balls and 
pass in circles. Learn to hold the ball when you 
catch it. Glue right to it. And when you pass, 
put it where you want it to go. Don’t think that 
the work is silly and unnecessary, because it is n’t. 
A fellow who can’t hold a ball when it comes to 
him is of no use on this team. So keep your 
minds right on the job and your eyes right on the 
ball. All right. Captain Stevenson.” 

At least, Ned could, to quote Laurie, stand in 
a circle” and pass a football, and he did, -and did 
it better than several others in his squad. In 
the same way^ he could go after a trickling pig- 
skin and catch it up without falling over himself, 
though it is possible that his ^^form” was less 
graceful than that of one or two of his fellows. 
When, later, they were formed in a line and 
started off by the snapping of the ball in the 
hands of a world-wearied youth in a faded blue 


58 


THE TUENEE TWINS 


sweater bearing a white H on its breast, Ned 
did nT show np so well, for he was almost invari- 
ably one of the last to plunge forward. The blue- 
sweatered youth called his attention to the fact 
finally in a few well-chosen words. 

‘‘You guy in the bro^vn bloomers!’’ he bel- 
lowed. (Of course they weren’t bloomers, but a 
pair of somewhat expansive golf breeches that 
Ned, lacking proper attire, had donned, not with- 
out misgivings, on Laurie’s advice.) “Are you 
asle’ep? Put some life into it! Watch this ball, 
and when you see it roll, jump! You don’t look 
like a cripple, but you surely act like one ! ’ ’ 

Toward the end a half-dozen last-year fellows 
took to punting, but, to Ned’s relief, no one sug- 
gested that he take a hand at it, and at half -past 
five or thereabouts his trials came to an end. He 
went out of his way, dodging behind a group on 
the side-fine, to escape Joe Stevenson, but ran 
plump into Frank Brattle instead. 

“Hello, Turner,” Frank greeted. “How did 
it go?” 

“All right,” replied Ned, with elaborate care- 
lessness. , “Fine.” 

“Eather a nuisance having to go through the 
kindergarten stunts, isn’t it?” continued the 
other, sympathetically. “Mulford ’s a great 
hand at what he calls the fundamentals, though. 
I dare say he ’s right, too. It ’s funny how easy 


IN THE PEEFOEMANCE OP DUTY 59 

it is to get out of the hang of things during the 
summer. I ’m as stiff as a broom!’’ 

‘‘So am I,” answered Ned, earnestly and truth- 
fully. Frank smiled, nodded, and wandered on, 
and Ned, sighting Laurie hunched up in the grand 
stand, joined him. “It ’s a bully game, foot- 
ball, ’ ’ he sighed, as he lowered himself cautiously 
to a seat and listened to hear his muscles creak, 
“Full of beneficial effects and all that.” Laurie 
grinned in silence. Ned felt experimentally of 
his back, frowned, rocked himself backward and 
forward twice, and looked relieved. “I guess 
there ’s nothing actually broken,” he murmured, 
“I dare say it ’ll be all right soon.” 

“They say the first two months are the hard- 
est,” responded Laurie, comfortingly. “After 
that there ’s no sensation.” 

Ned nodded. “I believe it,” he said feelingly. 
He fixed his gaze on the farther goal-post and 
after a minute of silence remarked : 

“I ’d like to catch the man who invented foot- 
ball!” 

He turned a challenging look on his brother. 
Laurie blinked and for several seconds his lips 
moved noiselessly and there was a haunted look 
in his gray eyes. Then, triumphantly, he com- 
pleted the couplet: “It may suit some, but it 
does n’t suit all!” 

“Eotten!” said Ned. 


60 


THE TUENEE TWINS 


like to see you do any better/’ answered 
Laurie, aggrievedly. There isn’t any proper 
rhyme for Hootball,’ anyway.” 

‘‘Nor any reason for it, either. Of all — ” 
“Hi, you fellow!” interrupted a scandalized 
voice. “What are you doing up there? Have 
you done your two laps ? ’ ’ 

The speaker was a lanky, red-haired man who 
bristled with authority and outrage. 

‘ ‘ Two laps ? ’ ’ stammered Ned. “No, sir. ’ ’ 

“Get at it, then. And beat it in when you 
have. Want to catch cold, do you? Sitting 
around without a blanket or anything like that ! ’ ’ 
The trainer shot a final disgusted look at the of- 
fender and went on. 

“Gee,” murmured Ned, “I thought I was done ! 
Two laps, he said ! I ’ll never be able to, Laurie 1 ’ ’ 
“Oh, yes, you will,” was the cheerful response. 
“And while you ’re doing them you can think up 
a better rhyme for ‘football’ than I did !’^ 

Ned looked back reproachfully as he limped to 
the ground and, having gained the running-track, 
set off at a stiff -kneed jog. Laurie’s expression 
relented as he watched. 

“Sort of tough on the kid,” he muttered sym- 
pathetically. Then his face hardened again and 
he shook his head. “I ’ve got to be stern with 
him, though!” 


CHAPTER VI 


NED IS FIRM 

K EWPIE PROTJDTREE obeyed the shouted 
invitation to enter Number 16 and appeared 
with a countenance as innocent as that of an in- 
fant. ‘‘Hello, fellows,’’ he said cordially, drop- 
ping into a chair with indications of exhaustion. 
“How do you like it as far as you ’ve gone?” 

Ned shifted in his seat at the study-table, chok- 
ing back a groan, and fixed Kewpie with a bale- 
ful look. “Listen, Proudtree,” he said sternly. 
“I ’ve got a bone to pick with you!” 

“With me?” Kewpie stared in amazement. 
“What have I done?” 

“You ’ve got me into a fix, that ’s what you ’ve 
done! Didn’t you ask me — us — ^last night not 
to let on to Stevenson that we — I — couldn’t play 
football? Didn’t you say it would be a favor 
to you? Didn’t you say it would be all right 
and — and everything?” 

‘ ‘ Sure ! What of it ? ” 

“Why, you crazy galoot, you must have told 
him that I knew all about the game! And you 
knew mighty well I didn’t! Stevenson thinks 
61 


62 


THE TURNER TWINS 


I a wonder, and I don’t know a touckdown 
from a — a forward kick!” 

‘‘Pass, not kick,” corrected Kewpie, patiently. 
“Look here. Turner — Say, are you Ned or 
Laurie? Blessed if I can tell!” 

“Ned,” replied that youth, with much dignity. 

“Guess I ’ll have to call you Ned, then. Can’t 
call you both Turner. You understand. It was 
like this, Ned. You see, I want to stand in 
with Joe Stevenson. It — it ’s for the good of the 
school. If they don’t play me at center this fall, 
who are they going to play ? Well, Joe thought I— 
well, he seemed to think I hadn’t acted just right 
about keeping my weight down. Hei — he was sort 
of peeved with me. So I wanted to smooth him 
down a bit. You understand. That ’s why I told 
him what I did.” 

“Well, what did you tell him?” 

“Why, I sort of — well, it wasn’t what I said 
exactly ; it was what he thought I meant ! ’ ’ 

“Proudtree, you ’re telling a whopper,” said 
Ned, sternly. “And you told one to Stevenson, 
too, or I miss my guess.” 

“I only said that you were a swell football- 
player.*’ ’ 

“For the love of lemons! What do you call 
that but a whopper?” 

Kewpie looked both ashamed and distressed. 
He swallowed hard and glanced furtively at 
Laurie as though hoping for aid. But Laurie 


NED IS FIRM 


63 


looked as unsympathetic as Ned. Kewpie sighed 
dolefully. ‘^I — I suppose it was/’ he acknowl- 
edged. ‘‘I did n’t think about that. I ’m sorry, 
Ned, honest! I did n’t mean to tell what was n’t 
so. I just wanted to get Joe’s mind off his 
troubles. You understand.” 

‘‘Well, you got me in a mess,” grumbled Ned. 
“I got by all right to-day, I suppose, but what ’s 
going to happen to-morrow?” 

Kewpie evidently didn’t know, for he stared 
morosely at the floor for a long minute. Finally, 
“I ’ll go to Joe and fess up if — ^if you say so,” 
he gulped. 

“I think you ought to,” responded Ned. 

“Where ’s the sense in that?” demanded 
Laurie. “What good would it do? Proudtree 
did fib, but he did n’t mean to. I mean he did n’t 
do it for harm. If he goes and tells Stevenson 
that he fibbed, Stevenson will have it in for him 
harder than ever ; and he will have it in for you, 
too, Ned. Maybe he will think it was a scheme 
that you and Proudtree hatched together. That ’s 
a punk idea, I say. Best thing to do is prove 
that Proudtree didn’t fib.” 

“How?” asked Ned. 

“Why, Proudtree — ” 

“There ’s an awful lot of that ‘Proudtree’ 
stuff,” complained the visitor. “Would you mind 
calling me Kewpie?” 

“All right. Well, Kewpie told Captain Steven- 


64 THE TUENEE TWINS 

son that you are a swell player. Go ahead and 
be one.^’ 

‘‘Huh, sounds easy the way you say it,’^ scoffed 
Ned ; “but how can I, when I don^t know anything 
about the silly game ? I wish to goodness you ^d 
taken up football instead of me 

“You got through to-day all right, didn’t 
you?” asked Laurie. “Well, keep it up. Keep 
your eyes open and learn. You can do it. You ’re 
no fool, even if you haven’t my intellect. Be- 
sides, you ’re the best little fakir that ever came 
over the range.” 

“You can’t fake kicking a football,” said Ned, 
scathingly. 

“Look here!” exclaimed Kewpie, his round 
face illumined by a great idea. “Tell you what, 
Ned! I ’ll show you how to kick!” 

The silence that greeted the offer might have 
offended a more sensitive youth, but Kewpie went 
on with enthusiasm. “Of course, I ’m no won- 
der at it. I ’m a little too short in the leg and, 
right now, I — I ’m a bit heavy; but I used to 
kick and I know how it ought to be done. Say 
we have a half-hour or so at it every morning 
for a while?” 

“Wouldn’t Stevenson know what was up?” 
asked Ned, dubiously. 

“He needn’t know. We ’ll go over to the lot 
behind the grammar school. Even if he saw us, 
he ’d think we were having some fun. ’ ’ 


NED IS FIRM 


65 


“He must have a strange idea of fun,’’ sighed 
Ned. “Still, if you want to take the trouble — ” 

“Glad to! Besides, I owe you something for 
— for getting you in wrong. And I can put you 
wise to a lot of little things about handling a 
ball. We could do some passing, for instance. 
Wonder who ’s got a ball we could borrow. I ’ll 
find one somewhere. You understand. Now, 
what hour have you got free in the morning?” 

A comparison of schedules showed that on two 
mornings a week the boys could meet at ten, and 
on two other mornings at ten-thirty. The remain- 
ing days were not accommodating, however. 

“Well, even four times a week will show re- 
sults,” said Kewpie, cheerfully. “This is Thurs- 
day. We ’ll have the first lesson Saturday at 
ten.” 

“I hope they don’t ask me to do any kicking 
before then,” said Ned. 

“Not likely. You ’ll get about the same stuff 
to-morrow as you had to-day. You ’ll get by, take 
my word for it. That ’s settled, then.” Kew- 
pie referred to an ornate gold wrist-watch. “It ’s 
after eight. You ’re going over to Johnny’s, 
are n’t you?” 

“Johnny’s?” repeated Laurie. “Oh, Doctor 
Hillman’s! I suppose so. What ’s it like?” 

“Oh, it isn’t bad. The eats are pretty fair. 
Anyway, he sort of likes the fellows to go, and 
he ’s a good sort. You ’ll be introduced to the 


66 


THE TURNER TWINS 


faculty and their wives, if they have any, and meet 
a lot of fellows whose names you ^11 forget the 
next minute. Take my advice and sort of work 
in toward the dining-room. Last year, the harle- 
quin ice-cream gave out before I could get 
to the table. ^ ’ Kewpie sighed. ^ ‘ Tabby has bully 
cake, too, and I ^m off of cake. Is nT that rotten 
luck ? ’ ’ 

‘‘Awful!’’ laughed Ned. “You going over 
now ? ” 

“Yes. Come on and I ’ll introduce you to some 
of the fellows you ought to know. I ’ll wash my 
dirty paws and meet you in two minutes.” 

The principal’s reception proved rather enjoy- 
able. The “eats” were excellent and, under 
Kewpie ’s guidance, the twins reached the 
long table in the dining-room well in advance 
of the crowd. As Laurie remarked afterward, it 
was worth the amount of trouble involved just to 
watch Kewpie ’s mouth water as he gazed soul- 
fully at the chocolate layer-cake. To his credit 
be it narrated that he manfully resisted it. Be- 
sides consuming much delectable food, the twins 
were impressively introduced by their guide to 
a number of their fellow-students, the introduction 
being prefaced in each case by a sort of biographi- 
cal note, as: “There ’s Dan Whipple. The tall 
feUow with the trick collar, talking to Mrs. Wells. 
Rows stroke on the crew. Senior class presi- 
dent. Honor man last year. President of At- 


NED IS FIRM 


67 


tic, too. Good chap to know. Come on.’’ In 
such manner they met at least a half-dozen school 
notables, most of whom were extremely atfable 
to the new boys. Sometimes, to be sure, the twins 
had a suspicion that Kewpie was pretending a 
closer intimacy with a notable than in fact existed, 
but he always “got away with it.” 

The only fly in the ointment of the evening’s 
enjoyment occurred when Kewpie mischievously 
introduced them to Mrs. Pennington, the wife of 
the Greek and Latin instructor, and sneaked away. 
Mrs. Pennington was tall and extremely thin, 
and viewed the world through a pair of tortoise- 
shell spectacles. She had a high voice and what 
Ned termed a “very Lake Superior” manner, 
and, since she confined her conversation to the 
benefits to be derived from an earnest study of 
the Latin poets, philosophers, and historians, the 
twins were not happy. Fortunately, very little 
was demanded from them conversationally, Mrs. 
Pennington being quite competent to do all the 
talking. But, unfortunately, she gave them no 
chance to get away. Ned descried Kewpie grin- 
ning heartlessly from the doorway and rewarded 
him with a terrific and threatening scowl. Kew- 
pie, however, waved blandly and faded into the 
night. Release came to them at last and they 
scurried away, neglecting, in their hurried depar- 
ture, to say good night either to the doctor or 
Miss Tabitha, a breach of etiquette which probably 


68 


THE TURNER TWINS 


passed unnoted by the hosts. Back in East Hall, 
the twins hammered loudly at Number 15, but 
Kewpie was either absent or discreet. At any 
rate, there was no response, and revenge had to be 
postponed. 

To Laurie’s surprise, a notice on the bulle- 
tin-board in the corridor of School Hall the fol- 
lowing morning announced that autumn baseball 
practice would begin that afternoon. He had sup- 
posed that his hour to otfer himself on the altar 
of school patriotism would not arrive until the 
next spring; and later, when he strode down Wal- 
nut Street with Ned, in search of football togs 
for the latter, he broached the subject diplo- 
matically. 

‘ ‘ Funny idea to have baseball practice this time 
of year, I think,” he remarked carelessly. ‘^Not 
much good in it. A fellow would forget any- 
thing he learned by next April.” 

‘‘Didn’t know they did,” replied Ned, unin- 
terestedly. “Who told you that?” 

‘ ‘ Oh, there was a notice on the board in School 
Hall. Don’t believe many fellows go out in the 
fall.” 

“Thought baseball was a spring and summer 
game. Still, I dare say you can play it just as 
well now. Seems to me I ’ve heard of having 
spring football practice, have n ’t you ? ’ ’ 

“I dare say. Crazy scheme, though, playing 
games out of season.” 

‘ ‘ Y e-es. ” Ned went on thoughtfully a moment 


NED IS FIEM 


69 


Then he shot a suspicious glance at his bro- 
ther. ^‘You going out?’’ he demanded. 

“N-no, I don’t think so,” answered Laurie, 
lightly. ‘‘There ’s that building we had the 
bet on the other day. We never did find out — ” 

“Never you mind about that building,” inter- 
rupted Ned, severely. “I ’m on to you, partner. 
You ’re trying to renege on baseball. Well, it 
does n’t go ! You ’re a baseball hero and you ’ve 
got to get busy!” 

“Aw, Ned, have a heart! There ’s plenty of 
time — ” 

“No, sir, by jiminy! You got me slaving for 
the dear old school, now you do your bit!” 

“Yes, but it is n’t fair to start the baseball sea- 
son in September. You know it is n’t.” 

‘ ‘ Cut out the alibis ! You can get some baseball 
togs right now. Good thing you spoke of it. 
What ’ll you need?” 

“All I need is kindness, ’ ’ wailed Laurie. “Ned, 
I don’t want to be a hero! I don’t want to save 
the dear old school from defeat in the ninth in- 
ning! I — I — ” 

“You ’re going to do as you agreed to,” an- 
swered Ned, grimly. “Remember that the honor 
of the Turners is at stake ! ’ ’ 

Laurie sighed deeply. Then, “You speak of 
honor! Say no more. I yield,” he declaimed 
dramatically. 

“You bet you do,” answered Ned, unhesitat- 
ingly. “You for tbo baseball field!” 


CHAPTER VII 


HIGH SCHOOL ACCEPTS DEFEAT 

A WEEK passed, and the twins began xo feel 
like old residents. They had ceased being 
‘Hhe Turner twins’’ to acquaintances, although 
others still referred to them so, and their novelty 
had so far worn off that they could enter a class- 
room or walk side by side across the yard with- 
out being conscious of the rapt, almost in- 
credulous stares of the beholders. To merely cas- 
ual acquaintances they were known as Ned and 
Laurie; to a few friends they had become Nid 
and Nod. Kewpie was responsible for that. He 
had corrupted ‘‘Ned” into “Nid,” after which it 
was impossible for Laurie to be anything but 
“Nod.” Laurie had demurred for a time, de- 
manding to be informed who Nod had been. Kew- 
pie could n’t tell him, being of the hazy belief that 
Nid and Nod were brothers in some fairy story 
he had once read, but he earnestly assured 
Laurie that both had been most upright and 
wholly estimable persons. Anyhow, Laurie’s ob- 
jections wouldn’t have accomplished much, for 
others had been prompt to adopt the nicknames 
and all the protests in the world wouldn’t have 

70 


HIGH SCHOOL ACCEPTS DEFEAT 71 

caused them to drop them. These others were nT 
many in number, however: Kewpie and Thurman 
Kendrick and Lee Murdock and George Watson 
about made up the list of them at this time. 

Kendrick was Kewpie ^s room-mate, a smallish, 
black-haired, very earnest youth of sixteen, which 
age was also Kewpie ’s. Thurman was familiarly 
known as ‘‘Hop,’^ although the twins never 
learned why. He was a candidate for quarter- 
back on the eleven and took his task very seri- 
‘ously. Lee Murdock was one of the baseball 
crowd, and Laurie had scraped acquaintance with 
him on the diamond during a practice game. The 
word ‘^pcraped’’ is used advisedly, for Laurie, 
in sliding to second base, had spiked much of the 
skin from Lee’s ankle. Of such incidents are 
friendships formed! Lee was two years older 
than Laurie, a big, rather raw-boned fellow with 
a mop of ash-colored hair and very bright blue 
eyes. 

George Watson was sixteen, an upper middler, 
and, as Laurie frequently assured him, no fit asso- 
ciate for a respectable fellow. To the latter as- 
sertion George cheerfully agreed, adding that he 
always avoided such. He came from Wyoming 
and had brought with him a breeziness of manner 
that his acquaintances, rightly or wrongly, de- 
scribed as ‘^wild and woolly.” Of the four, 
Kewpie and George were more often found in 
company with the twins. 


.72 


THE TURNER TWINS 


There had been four lessons in kicking on an 
open lot behind the grammar school, two short 
blocks away, and while Ned had not yet mastered 
the gentle art of hurtling a football through the 
air, Kewpie was enthusiastic about his pupil’s 
progress. ^‘Why, geewhillikins, Nid,” he broke 
forth after the fourth session, “you ’re a born 
kicker ! Honest you are ! You ’ve got a corking 
swing and a lot of drive. You — ^you ’ve got 
real form, that ’s what you Ve got. You under- 
stand. And you certainly do learn ! Of course, 
you haven’t got it all from me, because you ’ve 
been punting in practice two or three times, but 
I take some of the credit.” 

“You ’ve got a right to,” responded Ned. 
“You ’ve taught me a lot more than I ’ve learned 
on the field. Gee, if it had n’t been for you I ’d 
been afraid even to try a punt over there ! You 
ought to see the puzzled way that Pope looks 
at me sometimes. He can ’t seem to make me out, 
because, I suppose, Joe Stevenson told him I was 
a crackajack. Yesterday he said, ‘You get good 
distance. Turner, and your direction isn’t bad, 
but you never punt twice the same way ! ’ ” 

“Well, you don’t,” laughed Kewpie. “But 
you ’ll get over that just as soon as I can get it 
into your thick head that the right way ’s the 
best and there ’s only one right!” 

“I know,” said Ned, humbly. “I mean to do 
the way you say, but I sort of forget.” 


HIGH SCHOOL ACCEPTS DEFEAT 73 


‘‘That ’s because you try to think of too many 
things at once. Stop thinking about your leg 
and just remember the ball and keep your eyes on 
it until it in the air. That ’s the secret, Nid. 
I h.'^ard Joe telling Pinky the other day that you ^d 
ou^ht to shape up well for next year. ’ ^ 

“Next year!’’ exclaimed Ned, dubiously. 
‘ ‘ Gee 1 mean to tell me I ’m going through all this 
work for next year?” 

“Well, you might get a place this year, for 
all you know, ’ ’ replied Kewpie, soothingly. ‘ ‘ Just 
keep on coming, Nid. If you could only — well, 
if you had just a bit more speed now, got started 
quicker, you know. Pinky would have you on the 
second squad in no time, I believe. You ’re all 
right after you get started, but — you understand.” 

“I do the best I know how,” sighed Ned. “I 
suppose I am slow on the get-away, though. Cor- 
son is always calling me down about it. Oh, well, 
what do I care ? I don ’t own it. ’ ’ 

“I ’d like to see you make good, though,” said 
Kewpie. “Besides, remember the honor of the 
Turners!” 

Ned laughed. “Laurie will look after that. 
He ’s doing great things in baseball, if you believe 
him, and it wouldn’t be right for us to capture 
all the athletic honors.” 

“You make me weary!” grunted Kewpie. 
“Say, don’t you California chaps ever have any 
pep?” 


74 


THE TURNER TWINS 


‘‘California, old scout, is famous for its pep. 
iWe grow it for market out there. Why, I Ve 
seen a hundred acres planted to it!^^ 

“You have, eh? Well, it ^s a big shame you 
didn^t bring a sprig of it East with you, you 
lazy lummox ! Some day I ’m going to drop a 
cockle-burr down your back and see if you don^t 
show some action!” 

Hillman’s started her season on the following 
Saturday with Orstead High School. As neither 
team had seen much practice, the contest didn’t 
show a very high grade of football. The teams 
played four ten-minute quarters, consuming a good 
two hours of elapsed time in doing it, their mem- 
bers spending many precious moments prone on 
the turf. The weather was miserably warm for 
football and the players were still pretty soft. 

Kewpie derived great satisfaction from the 
subsequent discovery that he had dropped three 
quarter pounds and was within a mere seven 
pounds of his desired weight. Had he 
played the game through instead of yielding 
the center position to Holmes at the beginning 
of the last half, he might have reached his goal 
that afternoon. Ned and Laurie wounded him 
deeply by declaring that there was no apparent 
improvement in his appearance. 

Ned saw the game from the substitutes’ bench, 
and Laurie from the stand. High School turned 
out a full attendance and, since Hillman’s was out- 


HIGH SCHOOL ACCEPTS DEFEAT 75 


numbered two to one, ‘‘0. H. S.^^ colors and cheers 
predominated. Laurie sat with Lee Murdock, 
who, as a baseball enthusiast, professed a great 
scorn of football. (There was no practice on the 
diamond that afternoon.) Lee amused himself 
byimaking ridiculous comments in a voice audible 
for many yards around. 

‘‘That ^s piffle!^’ he declared on one occasion, 
when the ground was strewn with tired, panting 
players. “The umpire said, ‘Third down,’ but 
if they aren’t three quarters down. I’ll treat 
the crowd ! The trouble with those fellows is that 
they didn’t get enough sleep last night. Any 
one can see that. Why, I can hear that big chap 
snoring ’way over here!” Again, “That brother 
of yours is playing better than any of them,” he 
asserted. 

“Ned? Why, he is n’t in ! He ’s on the bench 
down there.” 

“Sure! That ’s what I mean. You don’t see 
him grabbing the ball away from Brattle and los- 
ing two or three yards at a time. No, sir; he just 
sits right there, half asleep, and makes High 
School work for the game. Every time he 
doesn’t take the ball. Nod, he saves us three or 
four yards. He ’s a hero, that ’s what he is. If 
Mulford would get all the rest of them back on 
the bench, we might win.” 

“You ’re crazy,” laughed Laurie. 

During the intermission, Laurie’s wandering 


76 


THE TUENER TWINS 


gaze feU on two girls a dozen seats away. One, 
whom he had never seen before, displayed a 
cherry-and-black pennant and belonged unmis- 
takably to the high school cohort. She was a 
rather jolly-looking girl, Laurie decided, wife a 
good deal of straw-colored hair and a pink-^d- 
white skin. Her companion was evidently^^'di- 
vided as to allegiance, for she had a cherry-i^d- 
black ribbon pinned on the front of her dress and 
wore a dark-blue silken arm-band. For a mo- 
ment Laurie wondered why she looked familiar to 
him. Then he recognized her as Polly Deane. 
The two girls appeared to be alone, although some 
boys in the row behind were talking 

So far, the twins had not been 
little shop on Pine Street, but Laurie resolved 
now that he would drop around there very soon 
and pay his bill before his money was gone. 
After paying the school bill for the first half- 
year, he and Ned had shared slightly more 
than twenty dollars, but since then there had 
been many expenses. They had each had to pur- 
chase playing togs and stationery, and, finally, 
had donated two dollars apiece to the football 
fund at the mass-meeting Friday night of the 
week before. 

Viewed from a financial standpoint, that meet- 
ing hadnT been a great success, and it was no 
secret that, unless more money was forthcoming, 
the team would be obliged to cancel at least one 


to thenq^ 
back to'Hhe 


HIGH SCHOOL ACCEPTS DEFEAT 77 

of its away-from-home games. But it had re- 
sulted in bringing out a big field of candidates, 
and there had been a lot of enthusiasm. The 
next day, viewing his reduced exchequer, Laurie 
had ruefully observed that he guessed a dollar 
would have been enough to give, but Ned had 
called him a ‘ ‘ piker and a ‘‘tight-wad^^ and 
other scornful things. Yesterday Ned had bor- 
rowed half a dollar, which was more than a 
fourth of Laurie ^s remaining cash; and the first 
of October was still a week distant. Kealizing the 
latter fact, Laurie changed his mind about set- 
tling his account at the Widow Deane’s. But, he 
reflected, with another friendly glance in Polly’s 
direction, it wouldn’t be right to withhold his 
trade from the store. And he wasn’t anywhere 
near the limit of indebtedness yet! 

Two listless periods followed the intermission, 
the only inspiring incident coming when, near the 
end of the third quarter. Pope, Hillman’s full- 
back, foiled in his attempt to get a forward pass 
away, smashed past the enemy and around his 
left end for a run that placed the pigskin six 
yards short of the last white line. From there 
the home team managed to push its way to a 
touch-down, the third and last score of the day. 
The final figures were 10 to 7 in Hillman ’s favor, 
and neither side was very proud of the outcome. 

Ned returned to Number 16 half an hour later 
in a most critical frame of mind, and spent ten 


78 


THE TUBNEE TWINS 


minutes explaining to Laurie just when and how 
the school team had failed. At last Laurie in- 
terrupted him to ask, ^‘Have you told this to 
Mr. Mulford, NedT’ 

‘^Mr. Mulford? Why — oh, go to the dickens 
‘‘Seems to me he ought to know,^’ said Laurie, 
gravely. 

“That ’s all right. You can be sarcastic if 
you like, but I ^m talking horse-sense. You see 
a lot of things from the bench that you don’t see 
from the stand. Besides, you ’ve got to know 
football to understand it. Now you take — ” 

“I beg your pardon! Did you say anything 
about understanding football?’^ 

“Well, I understand a lot more about it than 
you do,” replied the other, warmly. “I ’ve been 
playing it a week, have n ’t I ? ” 

“Sure, but I ’ll bet you don’t know how much 
a safety counts!” 

“I don’t need to. That ’s up to the referee. 
But I know some football, just the same. And 
I punted forty-seven yards yesterday, too!’^ 

“In how many punts?” inquired Laurie, in- 
nocently. 

Ned threw a book at him and the subject was 
closed. 

In his own line, baseball, Laurie was not set- 
ting the world on fire. He was gaining a fa- 
miliarity with the position of center fielder on the 
scinh nine, and batting practice was at least not 


HIGH SCHOOL ACCEPTS DEFEAT 79 

doing him any harm. But he certainly had dis- 
played no remarkable ability; and if Ned had 
gained a notion to the contrary, it was merely 
because it pleased Laurie to fool him with ac- 
counts of imaginary incidents in which he, Laurie, 
had shone most brilliantly. As Ned knew even 
less about baseball than he had known of foot- 
ball, almost any fairy-tale ^^went’’ with him, and 
Laurie derived much amusement thereby; de- 
cidedly more, in fact, than he derived from play- 
ing! 

On Monday morning Laurie dragged Ned over 
to the Widow Deane’s for ginger-ale, professing 
a painful thirst. The Widow greeted them 
pleasantly, recalling their names, and provided 
them with the requested beverage. Laurie’s 
thirst seemed to have passed, for he had difficulty 
in consuming his portion. When, presently, he 
asked politely about Polly, it developed that that 
young lady was quite well enough to attend high 
school as usual. Laurie said, ^‘Oh!” and silently 
promised himself that the next time he got thirsty 
it would be in the afternoon. Ned ate two dough- 
nuts and was hesitating over raspberry tarts 
when Laurie dragged him away. Can’t you 
think of anything but eating?” demanded the lat- 
ter, disgustedly. Ned only blinked. 

^‘Ginger-ale always makes me hungry,’-’ he 
explained calmly. 

Two days later, the twins awoke to cloudy 


80 


THE TURNER TWINS 


skies, and by mid-forenoon a lazy drizzle was 
falling, which later turned to a downright tempest 
of wind and rain. At four the baseball candi- 
dates scooted to the field-house for cover, al- 
though, peering forth through a drenched window, 
Laurie discerned the football-players still at 
work. Lee Murdock said he guessed the equi- 
noctial storm had come, and that if it had 
there ’d be no practice for a couple of days. 
Laurie tried to look broken-hearted and failed 
dismally. Taking advantage of a lull in the down- 
pour, he and Lee, with many of the others, set 
forth for school. They were still far short of the 
gymnasium,, however, when the torrent began 
again, and it was a wet, bedraggled, and breath- 
less crowd that presently pushed through the 
door. 

George Watson, who had been playing tennis 
before the rain started, was philosophically re- 
garding a pair of ‘^unshrinkable^’ flannel trou- 
sers which, so he declared, had already receded 
an inch at the bottoms. It was George who sug- 
gested that, after changing to dry clothing, they 
go over to the Widow’s and have ice-cream at 
his expense. Not possessing a rain-coat of his 
own, Laurie invaded Number 15 and borrowed 
Kewpie’s. It was many sizes too large, but it 
answered. The Widow’s was full when he and 
George and Lee got there, and the pastry counter 
looked as though it had been visited by an in- 


HIGH SCHOOL ACCEPTS DEFEAT 81 


vading army. There was still ice-cream, though, 
and the three squeezed into a corner and became 
absorbedly silent for a space. 

Polly was helping her mother, and Laurie ex- 
changed greetings with her, but she was far too 
busy for conversation. Lee treated to a second 
round of ice-cream, and afterward Laurie bought 
a bag of old-fashioned chocolates. He hoped 
Polly would wait on him, but it was Polly ^s 
mother who did so and asked after his brother 
as she filled the paper sack. 

do hope you ^re looking after him and that 
he hasn’t eaten those raspberry tarts yet,” she 
said pleasantly. 

‘‘Yes ’m,” said Laurie. “I mean, he hasn’t.” 
He thought it surprising that the Widow Deane 
was able to tell them apart. Even Kewpie and 
George frequently made mistakes. 

It was still pouring when they went out again, 
and they hurried up the street and around the 
corner into School Park, their progress some- 
what delayed by the fact that Laurie had placed 
the bag of candy in an outside pocket of Kewpie ’s 
capacious rain-coat and that all three had diffi- 
culty in finding it. Lee had just popped a big 
chocolate into his mouth and George was fumbling 
into the moist bag when the clouds opened sud- 
denly and such a deluge fell as made them gasp. 
In distance they were but a long block from 
school 5 but with the rain descending on them as 


82 


THE TURNER TWINS 


though poured from a million buckets, their 
thought was of immediate shelter. 

‘‘Wow!’^ yelped Lee. ‘^Let ’s get out of this! 
Here ’s a house. Come on ! ’ ^ 

There was an opening in a high hedge, and a 
short brick walk from which the drops were 
rebounding knee-high, and, seen dimly through 
the deluge, a porch at the end of it. They reached 
it in what Laurie called three leaps and a jump, 
and, under shelter of the roof, drew breath and 
looked back into the gray welter. The park was 
invisible, and even the high lilac hedge was only 
a blurred shape. Lee had to shout to make him- 
self heard above the rain. 

^‘Wonder who lives here,’’ he said. don’t 
remember this house.” 

‘‘Sure you do!” said George. “This is the 
Coventry house. We ’re on the side porch.” 

“Oh!” Lee gazed doubtfully into the rain. 
“Well, anyway, it ’ll do. Gee, my trousers are 
soaked to the knees! How long do you suppose 
this will keep up?” 

“You said for two days,” answered Laurie, 
cheerfully, trying to dry his neck with a moist 
handkerchief. 

“I mean this shower, you chump!” 

“Call this a shower? What ’s a cloud-burst 
like in this part of the country, then?’^ 

“We don’t have such things,” answered 
George, who was peering through a side-light 


HIGH SCHOOL ACCEPTS DEFEAT 83 


into the dim interior. ‘‘Say, I thought this place 
was empty, he continued. “I can see chairs 
and a table in there. 

“No; some one rented it this fall,’’ said Lee. 
“I noticed the other day that the front door was 
open and the grass had been cut. I wouldn’t 
want to live in the place, though.” 

“Why?” inquired Laurie. 

But, before any answer came, the door was 
suddenly opened within a few inches of George’s 
nose and a voice said : 

“You fellows had better come inside until it ’s 

77 


over. 


CHAPTER Vin 


IN THE MISER HOUSE 

T he invitation came from a boy of about six- 
teen, a slim, eminently attractive chap, who 
smiled persuasively through the aperture. 
Laurie knew that he had seen him somewhere, 
but it was not until they had followed, somewhat 
protestingly, into a hallway and from there into 
a large and shadowy drawing-room that he rec- 
ognized him as one of the day pupils. Lee, it 
seemed, knew him slightly and called him by name. 

*‘We oughtn’t to come in here,” Lee apolo- 
gized. ‘‘We ’re soaking wet. Starling.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” answered their host. 
“Wait till I find a match and we ’ll have a fire 
here.” 

“Don’t bother, please,” George protested. 
“We ’re going right on in a minute.” 

“Might as well get dry a bit first. The fire ’s 
all laid.” The boy held a match at the grate 
and in a moment the wood was snapping merrily. 
“Pull up some chairs, fellows. Here, try this. 
Some rain, isn’t it?” 

“Rather,” agreed Lee. “By the way, do you 
know Turner? And Watson?” The three boys 

84 


IN THE MISER’S HOUSE 


85 


shook hands. didn’t know you lived here,” 
Lee continued. ^‘Saw the house had been taken, 
but didn’t know who had it. Corking big place, 
is n’t it?” 

Starling laughed. ‘Ht ’s big all right, but it ^s 
not so corking. Let me have that rain-coat, 
Turner. The rooms are so frightfully huge that 
you get lost in them ! I have the bedroom above 
this, and the first morning I woke up in it I 
thought I was in the Sahara Desert I This was 
the only place we could find, though, that was 
for rent, and we had to take it. Dad came here 
on short notice and we didn’t have much time to 
look around. Pull up closer to the fire, Wat- 
son, and get your feet dry. I ’ve got some slip- 
pers up-stairs if you want to take your shoes 
off.” 

‘‘No, thanks. I guess the wet didn’t get 
through. I ’ve seen you over at school, haven’t 
I?” 

“Yes, I ’m a day boy; one of the ‘Hep, heps!’ ” 

Lee grinned. “Sort of a mean trick, that. 
Starling, but they always do it every year.” 

“Wish I ’d known about it beforehand. I ’d 
have sneaked over a fence and through a win- 
dow. It was fierce ! I was the last fellow to get 
in this fall. Dad made application in August, 
and some fellow who had entered in the spring 
changed his mind ; otherwise I ^d have had to go 
to the high school.” 


86 


THE TURNER TWINS 


^‘That would have been an awful fate/^ said 
George, gravely. 

‘^Oh, I wouldn T have minded. I like Hill- 
man’s, though. Do any of you chaps play ten- 
nis?” 

try to,” answered George. 

‘‘Wish you ’d give me a game some day. 
Tennis is about the only thing I know much 
about, and I saw some dandy courts over at the 
field.” 

“Glad to,” George assured him. “Any day 
you like. Starling. I ’m not much of a player, 
though, so don’t expect a lot.” 

“Guess you ’re good enough to handle me,” 
laughed the other. “I like it better than I can 
play it. How about to-morrow afternoon?” 

“Suits me,” answered George. “Three- 
thirty?” 

“Fine! I ’m going to get Dad to build a court 
in the yard here, if I can. There ’s lots of room, 
but there ’s a tumble-down old grape-arbor right 
in the middle.” 

“Yes, there ’s surely room enough,^’ agreed 
Lee. “We used to come over here last fall and 
get pears — there ’s a dandy seckel tree back 
there. I ’d say there was room for two or three 
courts if some of the trees were cut down.” 

“What could he do with three of them?” asked 
Laurie. 

“I suppose we ’d have to get the owner’s per- 


IN THE MISEE’S HOUSE 


87 


mission to even take that rickety old arbor down/’ 
Starling said. 

‘‘I thought the owner was dead,” Lee observed. 

George chuckled. ‘ ^ If he was dead he would n’t 
be the owner, you simple! Old Coventry died 
three or four years ago, but somebody owns the 
place, of course. If what they tell of the old chap 
is true, it must have broken his heart to know 
he could n ’t take the place with him ! Maybe he 
took his money with him, though. Anyway, the 
story goes that he had slathers of it, and they 
could only find a couple of thousands when he 
died.” 

‘^What was he, a miser?” asked Starling. 

“Yes, one of the sort you read about in the 
stories. Lived here all alone for years and years 
with only a negro servant. They say you could 
never see a light in the place at night, and he 
never went off the front porch more than a couple 
of times a year. Then a carriage came for him 
and he got in and went down to the boat. He 
didn’t use the train because it cost too much. 
Of course, when he died, folks expected to find 
that he had left a mint of money ; but all any one 
could discover was about two thousand dollars 
in one of the banks here — that, and this property. 
The heirs, whoever they were, pretty near tore 
the insides out of the house, they say, looking for 
coin, but they didn’t get anything.” 

“And at night the old codger’s ghost walks 


88 


THE TURNER TWINS 


around,’’ added Lee; ‘‘and if you follow Mm, 
he ’ll take you to the place the money ’s hidden.” 

“Honest?” exclaimed Starling, joyfully. 
“Gosh, that ’s great! I always wanted to live 
in a house with a ghost.” 

“I ’m sorry, then,” said George, “for I just 
made that part up.” 

*^You did ? ’ ’ Lee looked incredulous. ‘ ‘ Where 
do you come in? I ’ve heard that ever since I 
came here.” 

“No, sir; you may have heard the rest of the 
story, but not the part about the ghost. I wrote 
the yarn up in my junior year for an English 
comp., and tacked on the ghost feature as a sort 
of added climax. Got good marks, too, and the 
Orstead paper published the tMng. I ’ll show 
it to you, if you like.” 

Lee looked unconvinced still, and Starling dis- 
appointed. “Well, it ’s a good story, anyway, 
and makes the place more interesting. Some day 
I ’ll have a look myself for the hidden millions.” 

“Guess the old chap never had that much,” 
said George. “Thirty or forty thousand is 
about what he was supposed to have salted away.” 

“Scarcely worth bothering about,” observed 
Laurie, with a yawn. 

“But look here, what became of the servant?” 
asked Starling. “Maybe he got the dough and 
made otf with it. ’ ’ 

“Lots of folks thought that,” replied George; 


IN THE MISEE’S HOUSE 


89 


^^but the theory didn’t pan out for a cent. The 
negro stuck around here for quite a while and 
then ambled ofP somewhere. He claimed that old 
Coventry died owing him a month’s wages, and 
tried to get some one to pay him, but I gues^ he 
never got any of it, if it was really owing.” 

Where did he go to?” asked Starling, 
don’t know. New York City, I think.” 

’ll bet he either had the money or knew 
where it was,” declared Starhng, with conviction. 
“Don’t you see, fellows, he did just what any 
one would do in his case ? He stuck around so he 
would n ’t be suspected. If he ’d gone right off, 
folks would have said he was trying to avoid be- 
ing a-sked about the money. And then he faked 
up the yarn about the old gentleman owing him 
wages. A first-class detective would have got 
trace of the coin, I ’ll wager!” 

“You ’ve been reading Sherlock Holmes/* 
laughed Lee. “WTiy don’t you follow up your 
clue, find the negro, and restore the lost wealth 
to the starving heirs?” 

“Huh! If he did g^t the money, he ’s where 
even Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t find him by this 
time. Some one should have followed the fellow 
and kept watch on him right then. How old was 
he, Watson?” 

“About fifty, I guess. They say he had white 
whiskers, anyway. Oh, he didn’t know any 
more than he said he did. He was all right. 


90 


THE TUENEE TWINS 


He had been with old Coventry for years and 
years, one of those old-time family servants, yon 
know, honest and faithful. Why, he went on 
something fierce when the old chap died!^’ 

‘‘Say, how much of this gutf is real and how 
much of it is English composition?’^ asked Lee, 
suspiciously. “How do you know the negro took 
on when the old codger died? You weren’t 
here.” 

“Maybe I heard it,” replied George, grinning. 

“Yes, and maybe you just made it up, like the 
stuff about the ghost, ’ ’ Lee retorted sarcastically. 
“I ’ve heard the yarn two or three times, but I 
never heard that the negro had white whiskers 
or that he went into mourning!” 

‘^It ’s a fact, though,” declared the other, 
warmly. ‘ ‘ I prepared mighty well on that comp. ; 
talked with half a dozen persons who knew the 
story. Got most of the stuff from the Widow 
Deane, though. Old Coventry had been dead only 
about two years then and folks were still talking 
about him. The Widow doesn’t think the old 
chap had nearly as much money as he was sup- 
posed to have.” 

“She has the little store around on the back 
street?” asked Starling. 

“Yes. She took that as her share. ” 

“Her share of what?” demanded Lee. 

“Why, of the estate. Old Coventry owned the 
whole half -block right through from Walnut 


IN THE MISER’S HOUSE 


91 


Street to Pine. She rented that house from him 
until he died; paid a good sti:ff price, too; and 
then, when the estate was finally settled, she took 
it as her share, although she had to pay the other 
heirs something because they claimed that it was 
worth more than she had a right to.” 

‘^Look here,” said Lee, ‘^do you mean that the 
Widow Deane was one of old Coventry’s heirs?” 

‘ ‘ Of course ! Did n ’t you know it ? She was a 
half-sister. She lived over in New Jersey, she 
told me, until her husband died. Then she wrote 
to old Coventry, asking him to help her because 
she did n’t have much money, and he invited her 
to come here. She thought he meant to give her 
a home with him ; but when she got here, the best 
he would do was rent her that little house around 
on Pine Street and stock it up for her as a store. 
Then he built a fence between the two places. It 
used to be open right through.” 

‘^Oee, you certainly know a lot of ancient 
history!” marveled Lee. 

believe in being thorough,” laughed George. 
‘^When I tackle a subject I get a fall out of it.” 

^‘So when I trail the murderer — I mean the 
thief,” reflected Starling, ’ll be doing the old 
lady back there a good turn, won’t I?” 

‘‘Surest thing you know!” agreed George. 
“And she needs the money, I guess. I don’t be- 
lieve she makes a fortune out of that emporium. 
And that daughter of hers is a nice kid, too.” 


92 


THE TUENER TWINS 


‘‘How many other heirs are there to share in 
the money when Starling finds it T ^ asked Laurie. 

“I don T know. Quite a bunch, I believe. The 
old chap wasnT married, and the heirs are 
nephews and nieces and things like that. The 
Widow ^s the only one living around here, 
though. ’ ^ 

“Well, when I do find it,’^ laughed Starling, 
“I fil keep it quiet and hand it all over to the 
Widow. 

‘ ‘ He wants to make a hit with Polly, ^ ’ said Lee. 
“He ^s a fox.’’ 

“I ’ve never seen her,” Starling denied. 

“Well, she ’s a mighty pretty girl,” George 
avowed. “If you don’t believe me, ask Nod.” 

Laurie looked intensely innocent and very sur- 
prised. “Why me?” he asked blandly. 

Geo-rge shook his head, grinning. “You can’t 
get away with it, snn ! Think I did n ’t see you 
making love to the old lady this afternoon?” 

“Well,” Laurie laughed, “I thought it was 
Polly you spoke of.” 

“Sure, but she was busy waiting on a bunch 
of juniors and so you made up to the Widow. We 
saw you smirking and talking sweet to her, did n’t 
we, Lee? Butter wouldn’t have melted in the 
dear lamb’s mouth. And I thought the old lady 
seemed rather taken with him, too; didn’t you, 
Lee?” 


IN THE MISER HOUSE 93 

‘‘Rather I It was positively sickening! Talk 
about foxes — ’’ 

“Oh, dry up and blow away 1^^ muttered Laurie. 
“Say, the rain ’s stopped now — pretty nearly. 

“Wants to get away from the embarrassing 
subject,’’ George conhded to Starling. “Well, I 
never desert a pal. Nod. Come on, we ’ll trot 
along. Much obliged for taking us in. Starling. 
Hope we have n ’t ruined your rug. Half -past 
three to-morrow, if the courts are dry. I ’ll meet 
you in School Hall.” 

“Glad to have you drop around at my room 
some time,” said Lee. “I ’m in West; Number 
7.” 

“Same here,” added Laurie; “16 East Hall. 
Thanks, Starling.” 

“You ’re welcome. Come in again, fellows. 
When I get that tennis-court fixed up, we ’ll have 
some fun here. You needn’t wait for that, 
though. I ’d hke you to meet my father and aunt. 
No one ’s at home just now. I say, better take 
a couple of umbrellas.” 

“Not worth it, thanks, ’ ’ answered Lee. “ After 
that deluge, this is just an April shower. So 
long!” 

Lee’s statement wasn’t much of an exaggera- 
tion, and the three continued their way to the 
school unhurriedly. George remarked gloomily 
that it didn’t look awfully promising for tennis 


94 


THE TURNER TWINS 


on the morrow, adding: dl bet that chap ’s a 

corking good player, too.’^ 

‘‘Maybe you dl learn a little about the game 
from him,^^ said Laurie, sweetly. “How old do 
you say he isT’ 

“Starling? Oh, seventeen, maybe. He ^s in 
upper middle.” 

“Sixteen, more likely,” said George. “He 
seems a decent sort, eh? How did you come to 
know him?” 

“I didnT really know him. He ’s in some of 
my classes and we Ve spoken a couple of times. 
Rather a — an interesting kind of chap. Wonder 
what his father does here. Funny place for him 
to come to. He spoke of an aunt, but did nT say 
anything about a mother. Guess she ’s dead. 
Auntie probably keeps house for them.” 

As they entered the gate George chuckled and 
Laurie asked, “What ’s your trouble, Old- 
Timer?” 

“I was just thinking what a joke it would be 
if Starling took that stuff seriously about the hid- 
den money and began to hafek away the woodwork 
and dig up the cellar floor!” 

“Why, wasn’t it true?” 

“Sure! At least, as true as anything is that 
folks tell. You know. Nod, after being repeated a 
couple of hundred times a story sort of grows.” 

Lee grunted. “After some smart Aleck has 
written it up as an English comp, its own mother 


IN THE MISER’S HOUSE 


95 


wouldn’t know it! The real joke would be for 
Starling to wreck the woodwork and find the 
money ! ’ ’ 

^‘No, that wouldn’t be a joke,” said George, 
‘ ‘ that would be a movie 1 Come on 1 It ’s starting 
again! Last man in East buys the sodas! Come 
on, Lee!” 

Lee and Laurie ran a dead heat, and all the way 
to George ’s room, on the second floor, each sought 
to shift to the other the responsibility of provid- 
ing the soda-watar for the trio. In the end, 
George appointed himself referee and halved the 
responsibility between them. 

When, twenty minutes later, Laurie climbed on- 
ward to Number 16, he found a very disgruntled 
Ned curled up in the window-seat, which was now 
plentifully supplied with cushions. ‘‘Where ’ve 
you been all the afternoon?” he demanded ag- 
grievedly. 

“Many places,” replied Laurie, cheerfully. 
“Why the grouch?” 

“You ’d have a grouch, I reckon, if you ’d 
messed around with ^ soggy football for almost 
two hours in a cloud-burst ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Did you — er — get wet ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, no, I didn’t get wet! I carried an um- 
brella all the time, you silly toad ! Or maybe you 
think they roofed the gridiron over for us?” 

“Well, I got sort of water-logged myself, and 
don ’t you let any one tell you any different ! Wait 


96 THE TURNER TWINS 

till I return this rain-coat and I dl tell you about 
it.’^ 

Ve got troubles enough of my own/’ 
grumbled Ned, as Laurie crossed the corridor. 

Kewpie was n’t in when the borrowed garment 
was returned, but Hop Kendrick was, and Hop 
said it was quite all right, that Nod was welcome 
to anything of Kewpie ’s at any time, and please 
just stick it in the closet or somewhere. And 
Laurie thanked him gratefully and placed the 
rain-coat, which was n ’t very wet now, where he 
had found it. And the incident would have ended 
then and there if it hadn’t started in to rain 
cats and dogs again after supper and if Kewpie 
hadn’t taken it into his head to pay a visit to a 
fellow in West Hall. Which is introductory to 
the fact that at eight o’clock that evening, while 
Ned and Laurie were conscientiously absorbed in 
preparing to-morrow’s Latin, a large and irate 
youth appeared at the door of Number 16 with 
murder in his eyes and what appeared to be gore 
on his hands! 

^‘That ’s a swell way to return a fellow’s coat!” 
he accused. 

He brandished one gory hand dramatically, and 
with the other exhumed from a pocket of the gar- 
ment a moist and shapeless mass of brown paper 
and chocolate creams. ^‘Look at this!” he ex- 
horted. ‘Ht — it ’s all over me! The pocket ’s 
a regular glue-pot ! Ugh ! ” 


IN THE MISER HOUSE 


97 


Laurie looked and his shoulders heaved. 

^^Oh, Kewpie!’^ he gurgled, contrition — or 
something — quite overmastering him. ’m 
s-s-so s-s-sorry!’^ 

Kewpie regarded him scathingly a moment, 
while syrupy globules detached themselves from 
the exhibit and ran along his wrist. Finally ho 
exploded: ‘‘Sorry! Yes, you are!’^ 

Whereupon the door closed behind him with an 
indignant crash, and Laurie, unable longer to con- 
tain his sorrow, dropped his head on his books and 
gave way to it unrestrainedly. 


CHAPTER IX 


LAURIE HEARS NEWS 

O ctober arrived with the first tondh' of 
cooler weather, and the football candidates, 
who had panted and perspired under summer con- 
ditions for a fortnight, took heart. Among these 
was Ned. Laurie, who at first had had to alter- 
nate sympathy and severity in order to keep his 
brother's courage to the sticking-point, now found 
that his encouragement was no longer needed. 
Ned was quite as much in earnest as any fellow 
who wore canvas. Probably he was not destined 
ever to become a mighty player, for he seemed 
to lack that quality which coaches, unable to de- 
scribe, call football instinct. But he had made 
progress — surprising progress when it is consid- 
ered that he had known virtually nothing of the 
game two weeks before. 

Laurie, whose afternoons were still absorbed by 
baseball, viewed Ned^s efforts as something of a 
joke, much to the latter ^s chagrin, and continued 
to do so until a chance conversation with Thur- 
man Kendrick opened his eyes. Hop had come 
across one forenoon to borrow some notes and had 
tarried a moment to talk. In those days, when 


LAURIE HEARS NEWS 99 

Hop talked lie talked of just one subject, and 
that subject was football, and he introduced it 
to-day. 

<< We Ve got to do better to-morrow than we did 
last week,’^ he said earnestly, ‘‘or we ’ll get 
licked hard. Cole’s was fairly easy, but High- 
land is a tough customer. Our trouble so far has 
been slowness, and Highland ’s as fast as they 
make them. Somehow, Mulf ord does n ’t seem able 
to get any pep into our bunch. The line is n ’t so 
bad, but the back field ’s like cold glue.” 

“That’s up to the quarter, isn’t it?” asked 
Laurie, anxious to prove himself not absolutely 
ignorant of the subject. 

“Yes, partly; but it ’s up to the coach first. 
If the backs aren’t used to working fast, the 
quarter can’t make them. Frank Brattle ’s a 
good quarter. Nod. I sort of wish he was n’t so 
good I” 

“Meaning you ’d have a better chance of swip- 
ing his job?” smiled Laurie. 

“Oh, I ’ll never do that; but if he wasn’t so 
good I ’d get in more often. The best I can 
hope for this year is to get in for maybe a full 
period in the Fairview game. Anyway, I ’ll get 
my letter, and maybe next year I ’ll land in the 
position. Frank ’s a senior, you know.” 

“Is he? I haven’t seen much practice so far. 
Baseball keeps me pretty busy.” 

“How are you getting on?” 


100 


THE TUENER TWINS 


‘‘Slow, I ’m afraid. Anyway, you could easily 
tell Babe Ruth and me apart 

“I guess you ^re doing better than you let on,’^ 
said Hop. “If you ^re as good at baseball as your 
brother is at football, you ^11 do.’’ 

“I guess I am,” laughed Laurie; “just about!” 

“Well, Nid is surely coming fast,” replied Hop, 
gravely. “He ’s been doing some nice work the 
last few days.” 

Laurie stared. ‘ ‘ Say, what are you doing, Hop ? 
Stringing me?” he demanded. 

‘ ‘ Stringing you ? ’ ’ Hop looked puzzled. ‘ ‘ Why, 
no. How do you mean?” 

“About Ned. Do you mean that he ’s really 
playing football?” 

“Why, of course I do. Didn’t you know it?” 

Laurie shook his head. “He ’s been telling 
me a lot of stuff, but I thought he was just talking, 
the way I ’ve been, to sort of keep his courage up.” 

“Nonsense! Nid ’s doing mighty well. I don’t 
know how much experience he ’s had ; some ways 
he acts sort of green; but he ’s got Mason wor- 
ried, I guess. If he had another fifteen pounds 
he ’d make the team sure. As it is, I wouldn’t 
be surprised to see him play a whole lot this fall. 
You see, he ’s a pretty good punter. Nod, and 
yesterday he blossomed out as a drop-kicker, too. 
Landed the ball over from about the thirty yards 
and from a hard angle. Mason doesn’t do any 
kicking, and it ’s no bad thing to have a fellow in 


LAURIE HEARS NEWS 


101 


the back field who can help Pope out in a pinch. 
It his kicking ability that fil get him on if any- 
thing does.’’ 

‘ ‘ I see, ’ ’ said Laurie, thoughtfully. ‘ ‘Well, I ’m 
mighty glad. To tell the truth. Hop, Ned has n’t 
had an awful lot of experience. He ’s had to 
bluff a good deal.” 

“I suspected something of the sort from seeing 
him work the first week or so. And then Kewpie 
said something that sort of lined up with the 
idea. Well, he ’s working hard and he ’s making 
good. Much obliged for these, Nod. I ’ll fetch 
them back in ten minutes.” 

When Kendrick had taken his departure Laurie 
stared thoughtfully for a minute into space. Fi- 
nally he shook his head and smiled. “Good old 
Ned!” he murmured. “I ’m sorry I ragged him 
so. Gee, I ’ll have to buckle down to my own job 
or he ’ll leave me at the post!” 

After practice that afternoon, Laurie and Lee 
picked up George and Bob Starling at the tennis- 
courts, and, after changing into “cits,” went 
around to the doctor’s porch and joined a dozen 
other lads who were engaged in drinking Miss 
Tabitha ’s weak tea and eating her soul-satisfying 
layer-cake. After a half-hour of batting and 
fielding practice and a five-inning game between 
the first team and the scrubs, Laurie was in a 
most receptive mood as far as refreshments were 
concerned. Miss Tabitha made an ideal hostess, 


102 


THE TUENEE TWINS 


for she left conversation to the guests and occu- 
pied herself in seeing that cups and plates were 
kept filled. No one had yet discovered the num- 
ber of helpings of cake that constituted Miss 
Tabitha’s limit of hospitality, and there was a 
story of a junior so depressed by homesickness 
that he had absent-mindedly consumed six wedges 
of it and was being urged to a seventh when some 
inner voice uttered a saving warning. In spite 
of very healthy appetites, none of the quartette 
sought to compete with that record, but Laurie 
and George did allow themselves to be persuaded 
to third helpings, declining most politely until 
they feared to decline any more. Before they had 
finished, the doctor joined the group and made 
himself very agreeable, telling several funny sto- 
ries that set every one laughing and caused a 
small junior — ^it was the cherub-faced youth who 
sat at Laurie ^s table in the dining-hall and whose 
career thus far had proved anything but that of a 
cherub — to swallow a mouthful of mocha cake the 
wrong way, with disastrous results. During the 
ensuing confusion the quartette took their depart- 
ure. At the gate Bob Starling said: 

‘‘By the way, fellows, I spoke to Dad about 
that tennis-court, and he ’s written to the agent 
for permission. He says there wonT be any 
trouble; and if there is, he 11 agree to put the 
garden back the way we found it and erect a new 
arbor. 


LAURIE HEARS NEWS 103 

‘^What will it beU’ asked George. ^^Sod or 
gravel?” 

‘‘Oh, gravel. You could n^t get a sod court in 
shape under a year, and I want to use it this 
fall. I ’m going to look around to-morrow for 
some one to do the job. Know who does that 
sort of work here — Lee?” 

“No, but I suppose you get a contractor; one 
of those fellows who build roads and stone walls 
and things.” 

“I ^d ask at the court-house,” said Laurie. 

“At the court — oh, that ’s a punk one!” jeered 
Bob. ‘ ‘ See you later, fellows ! ’ ’ 

The game with Highland Academy was played 
across the river at Lookout, and most of the fel- 
lows went. In spite of Hop Kendrick’s pessimis- 
tic prophecy, Hillman ’s took command of the situ- 
ation in the first quarter and held it undisturbed 
to the final whistle. The contest was, if not ex- 
tremely fast, well played by both teams, and the 
hosts refused to acknowledge defeat until the end. 
Captain Stevenson, at left tackle, was the bright, 
particular star of the day, with the redoubtable 
Pope a good second. 

It was Joe Stevenson’s capture of a fumbled 
ball in the first five minutes of play and his amaz- 
ing run through the enemy ranks that produced 
the initial score. Pope kicked an easy goal after 
Slavin, righf half, had plunged through for a 
touch-down. Later in the game, Pope had added 


104 


THE TURNER TWINS 


three more points by a place-kick from the forty- 
two yards. Highland twice reached the Bluets 
ten-yard line, the first time losing the ball on 
downs, and the next attempting a forward pass 
that went astray. Her one opportunity to score 
by a kick was wrecked by no other than Kewpie, 
who, having substituted Holmes at the beginning 
of the second half, somehow shot his hundred and 
seventy pounds through the defense and met the 
pigskin with his nose. Kewpie presented a dis- 
reputable appearance for several days, but was 
given due honor. Hillman ^s returned across the 
Hudson in the twilight of early October with ex- 
ultant cheers and songs. 

Ned watched that game from the substitutes’ 
bench, just as he had watched the two preceding 
contests, but a newly awakened esprit de corps 
forbade complaining. When Laurie sympatheti- 
cally observed that he thought it was time Mul- 
ford gave Ned a chance in a real game, Ned re- 
sponded with dignity, almost with severity, that 
he guessed the coach knew his business. 

The first of the month — or, to be exact, the 
fourth — brought the twins their monthly allow- 
ances, and one of the first things Laurie did was 
to go to the little blue shop on Pine Street and 
pay his bill, which had reached its prescribed 
limit several days before. Ned went, too, al- 
though he didn’t display much enthusiasm over 
the mission. Ned held that, having created a bill. 


LAUEIE HEARS NEWS 


105 


it was all wrong deliberately to destroy it. To 
his mind, a bill was something to cherish and pre- 
serve. Laurie, however, pointed out that, since 
one was prohibited from further transactions at 
the Widow ^s, even on a cash basis, as long as one 
owed money there, it would be wise to cancel 
the debts. Ned recognized the wisdom of the 
statement and reluctantly parted with ninety- 
seven cents. 

Since it was only a little after two o^clock, the 
shop was empty when the twins entered, and 
Polly and her mother were just finishing their 
lunch in the back room. It was Polly who an- 
swered the tinkle of the bell and who, after some 
frowning and turning of pages in the account- 
book, canceled the indebtedness. 

‘‘Now,’^ said Ned, ‘‘I guess I ’ll have a cream- 
cake. Want one, Laurie?” 

Laurie did, in spite of the fact that it was 
less than an hour since dinner. Mrs. Deane ap- 
peared at the door, observed the proceeding, and 
smiled. 

‘‘I ’m real glad to see you ’re still alive,” 
she said to Ned. ‘‘I guess he must take very 
good care of you.” 

‘‘Yes ’m, I do,” Laurie assured her gravely. 

Ned laughed scornfully, or as scornfully as it 
was possible to laugh with his mouth full. “You 
shouldn’t believe everything he tells you, Mrs. 
Deane. I have to look after him like a baby. 


106 


THE TUENER TWINS 

Why, he would nT get down in time for 
breakfast if I didn’t put most of his clothes on.” 

‘‘That ’s no joke, either,” retorted Laurie, 
“about you putting my clothes on. You ’re wear- 
ing one of my collars and my best socks right 
now, and — yes, sir, that ’s my blue tie!” 

“Wait a bit, partner! Where ’d you get that 
shirt you ’re wearing?” 

“That ’s different,” answered Laurie, with dig- 
nity. “Mine are aU in the wash. Besides, it ’s 
an old one and you never wear it.” 

“I never get a chance to wear it!” 

“It must be very convenient for you,” said Mrs. 
Deane, smilingly, “to be able to wear each other’s 
things. Polly, I guess there won’t be any one 
else in for a while ; maybe they ’d like to see your 
garden. ’ ’ 

Being assured that they would, Polly led the 
way through the back room, a pleasant, sunny 
apartment evidently combining the duties of kit- 
chen and dining-room, and out to a little back 
porch shaded by morning-glories and nasturtiums 
that fairly ran riot over the* green lattice. There 
was a braided rug on the floor and a small rocker 
and a tiny table on which were books and a maga- 
zine or two. The books were evidently Polly’s 
school books, for they were held together by a 
strap. 

The twins liked that garden. It wasn’t very 
large, for when the peculiar Mr. Coventry had 


LAUEIE HEARS NEWS 


107 


divided the estate he had placed the high board 
fence very close to the little frame dwelling; but 
perhaps its very smallness made it seem more at- 
tractive. Narrow beds encompassed it on three 
sides, and a gravel walk followed the beds. In the 
tiny square inside, a small rustic arbor, covered 
with climbing rose-vines, held a seat that, as 
was presently proved, accommodated three very 
comfortably. 

But before they were allowed to sit down the 
boys had to be shown many things: the holly- 
hocks against the back fence, the flowering al- 
mond that had been brought all the way from the 
old home in New Jersey, — and had never quite 
made up its mind whether to die of homesickness 
or go on living, — the bed of lilies-of-the-valley 
that just wovld nH keep out of the path and many 
other floral treasures. Nasturtiums and morning- 
glories and scarlet sage and crinkly-edged white 
and lavender petunias were still blossoming gaily, 
and there was even a cluster of white roses on the 
arbor, for, so far, no frost had come. The twins 
admired properly ani Polly was all smiles, until 
suddenly she said, ^‘0-ohP’ and faced them re- 
proachfully. 

‘^You Ve just let me go on and be perfectly ri- 
diculous!’^ she charged. don’t think it’s a 
bit nice of you!” 

‘‘Why, what — how do you mean?” stammered 
Ned. 


108 


THE TURNER TWINS 


“You have the most wonderful flowers in the 
world in California, and you know it!^^ she re- 
plied severely; “and you ’ve let me show you 
these poor little things as if — as if they were any- 
thing at all in comparison! I forgot you came 
from California.’’ 

“Maybe we didn’t tell you,” offered Laurie. 
“Anyway, your flowers — ” 

“In California they have hedges of geraniums 
and roses climb right over the houses, and or- 
ange-trees and palms and everything,” inter- 
rupted Polly, breathlessly. “Why, this garden 
must seem perfectly — perfectly awful to you!” 

‘ ^ Don ’t you believe it ! ” denied Ned. “ Flowers 
and things do grow bigger, I suppose, out our 
way; but they aren’t a bit prettier, are they, 
Laurie ? ’ ’ 

“Not so pretty,” answered the other, earnestly. 
“Besides, I never saw a geranium hedge in my life. 
Maybe they have them in some places, like Pasa- 
dena, but there isn’t one in Santa Lucia, hon- 
est. There isn’t, is there, Ned?” 

“7 never saw one. And palms aren’t awfully 
pretty. They get sort of scraggly-looking some- 
times. Honest, Polly, I never saw a garden any 
prettier and cuter than this is. Of course, some 
are bigger and — and more magnificent — ” 

“Who wants a magnificent garden?” demanded 
Laurie, scornfully. “What have you got in the 
box, Polly?” 


LAURIE HEARS NEWS 109 

Comforted, Polly smiled again. ^‘That An- 
toinette,’^ she said. ‘‘Come and see.” 

Antoinette lived in a wooden box in the shelter 
of the porch, and had long ears and very blue eyes 
and a nose that twitched funnily when they ap- 
proached. In short, Antoinette was a flutfy 
smoke-gray rabbit. ^‘She has a dreadfully long 
pedigree,” said Polly, as she took Antoinette out 
and snuggled her in her arms. 

‘‘Has she?” murmured Laurie. “I thought it 
looked rather short.” 

“A pedigree isn’t a tail, you idiot,” said Ned, 
scathingly. “She ’s awfully pretty, Polly. Will 
she bite?” 

‘ ‘ Of course not ! At least, not unless you look 
like a cabbage-leaf.” 

“I wouldn’t take a chance,” Laurie advised. 
“Any one who ’s as green as you are — ” 

“She tries to eat ’most everything,” said Polly, 
“but she likes cabbage and lettuce and carrots 
best.” 

“I wish I had a cabbage,” muttered Laurie, 
searching his pockets ; “ or a carrot. You have n ’t 
a carrot with you, have you, Ned?” 

“You ’re the silliest boys!” laughed Polly, re- 
turning Antoinette to her box. “Let ’s go and 
sit down a minute.” And when they were on the 
seat under the arbor and she had smoothed her 
skirt and tucked a pair of rather soiled white 
canvas shoes from sight, she announced, “There! 
Now you can make up a verse about something!” 


CHAPTEE X 


POLLY ENTERTAINS 


AKE up a — ^what did you sayT^ asked Ned. 



‘‘Make up a verse,’’ answered Polly, pla- 
cidly. ^^As you did the other day when you went 
out. Don’t you remember?” 

^‘Oh!” Laurie looked somewhat embarrassed 
and a trifle silly. ‘‘Why, you see — ^we only do 
that when — ^when — ’ ’ 

“When we have inspiration,” aided Ned, glibly. 

“Yes, that ’s it, inspiration! We — ^we have to 
have inspiration.” 

“I ’m sure Antoinette ought to be enough in- 
spiration to any poet,” returned Polly, laughing. 
“You know you never saw a more beautiful rab- 
bit in your life — lives, I mean.” 

Ned looked inquiringly at Laurie. Then he 
said, “Well, maybe if I close my eyes a minute — ” 
He suited action to word. Polly viewed him with 
eager interest; Laurie, with misgiving. Finally, 
after a moment of silent suspense, his eyelids 
flickered and: 

“0 Antoinette, most lovely of thy kind!” he de- 
claimed. 


110 


POLLY ENTEETAINS 


111 


‘‘Tliou eatest cabbages and watermeloii rind!’’ 
finished Lanrie, promptly. 

Polly clapped her hands, but her approval was 
short-lived. ^^But she does n’t eatest watermelon 
rind,” she declared indignantly. ’m sure it 
wouldn’t be at all good for her!” 

Laurie grinned. ‘‘That ’s what we call poetic 
license,” he explained. “When you make a 
rhyme, sometimes you ’ve got to — to sacrifice 
truth for — in the interests of — I mean, you ’ve got 
to think of the sound! ‘Kind’ and ‘carrot’ 
wouldn’t sound right, don’t you see?” 

“Well, I’m sure watermelon rind doesn’t 
sound right, either,” objected Polly; “not for a 
rabbit. Babbits have very delicate digestions. ’ ’ 
“We might change it,” offered Ned. “How 
would this do? 

“O Antoinette, more lovely than a parrot. 
Thou dost subsist on cabbages and carrot.” 

“That ’s silly,” said Polly, scornfully. 

^‘Poetry usually is. silly,” Ned answered. 
Laurie, who had been gazing raptly at his 
shoes, broke forth exultantly. “I ’ve got it!” he 
cried. “Listen! 

“0 Antoinette, most beauteous of rabbits, 

Be mine and I will feed thee naught but cab- 
bits!” 


112 


THE TURNER TWINS 


A brief silence followed. Then Ned asked, 
‘^What are cabbitsT^ 

‘‘Cabbits are vegetables,^’ replied Laurie, 
never heard of them,” said Polly, wrinkling 
her forehead. 

‘ ‘ N either did any one else, ’ ’ laughed Ned. ‘ ‘ He 
just made them up to rhyme with rabbits.” 

‘‘A cabbit,” said Laurie, loftily, ‘‘is something 
between a cabbage and a carrot.” 

“What does it look like?” giggled Polly. 

Laurie blinked. “We-ell, you Ve seen a — 
you Ve seen an artichoke, haven’t you?” Polly 
nodded and Laurie blinked again. “And you ’ve 
seen a — a mangel-wurzel?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“Then I don’t see how I can tell you,” said 
Laurie, evidently relieved, “because a cabbit is 
more like a mangel-wurzel than anything else. 
Of course, it ’s not so deciduous, and the shape 
is ditferent ; it ’s more obvate than a mangel-wur- 
zel; more — ” he swept his hands vaguely in air — 
“more phenomenal.” 

“Oh, dry up,” said Ned, grinning. “How ’d 
you like to have to put up with an idiot like that 
all your life, Polly? The worst of it is, folks 
sometimes mistake him for me!” 

“Yes, it ’s awful, but I manage to bear up under 
it,” Laurie sighed. 

“How did you ever come to think of making 
those funny rhymes?” Polly asked. 


POLLY ENTERTAINS 


113 


‘^Oh, we had measles once, about four years 
ago,*’ said Ned. ‘‘We always had everything to- 
gether — measles, whooping-cough, scarlet fever, 
everything. And when we were getting over it 
they wouldn’t let us read and so we made up 
rhymes. I forget whose idea it was. I ’d make 
up one line and Laurie would make up the other, 
or the other way round. The idea was to have the 
last word of the first line so hard that the other 
fellow couldn’t rhyme to it. But I guess I only 
stuck Laurie once. Then the word was lemon.” 

“You didn’t really stick me then,” Laurie de- 
nied. “I rhymed it with demon. You said they 
didn’t rhyme, but I showed you a rhyming dic- 
tionary that said they did.” 

‘ ‘ The dictionary said it was an imperfect rhyme, 
Laurie, and — ” 

“Just the same, a rhyme ’s a rhyme. Say, Ned, 
remember the one we made up about Miss 
Yetter?” Ned nodded and grinned. “Miss 
Yetter was our nurse. We thought it was pretty 
clever, but she did n ’t like it. 

“When feeling ill send for Miss Yetter. 

If you don’t die, she ’ll make you better.” 

“She was quite insulted about it,” laughed Ned, 
“and told Dad; and he tried to lecture us, but we 
got laughing so he couldn’t. We made rhymes 
all the time for a while and nearly drove folks 
crazy; and finally Dad said if we didn’t stop it 


114 


THE TURNER TWINS 


he whale us. And I said, ‘All right, sir, we ’ll 
try not to do it’; and Laurie, the chump, butted 
in with, ‘ ’Cause if we do, we know we ’ll rue itl’ 
We nearly got the licking right then I” 

“You are funny I” laughed Polly. “Is your 
mother — haven’t you — •” 

“She died when we were kids,” answered 
Laurie. “I just remember her, but Ned does n’t.” 

“You think you do. You ’ve just heard Dad, 
and nurse talk about her. We were only four 
when Mother died.” 

Laurie looked unconvinced, but didn’t argue 
the matter. Instead he asked, “Your father ’s 
dead, is n ’t he, Polly ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, he died when I was eight. He was a 
dear, and I missed him just terribly. Mother 
says I look like him. He was very tall and was 
always laughing. Mother says he laughed so 
much he didn’t have time for anything else. 
She means that he was n’t — ^was n’t very success- 
ful. We were very poor when he died. But 
I guess he was lots nicer than he would have 
been if he had just been — successful. I guess 
the most successful man in this town is Mr, 
Sparks, the banker, and no one has ever seen him 
laugh once. And Uncle Peter was successful, 
too, I suppose; and he was just as sour and ill- 
tempered as anything. He was n’t my real uncle, 
but I called him that because Mother said it 
would please him. It didn’t seem to.” 


POLLY ENTERTAINS 


115 


‘‘Was that Mr. CoventryT’ asked Laurie. 
‘‘The mis — I mean the man who lived in the big 
square house over there T’ 

“Yes. And I don’t mind yOur calling him 
the miser, because that is just what he was. He 
was Mother’s half-brother, but he didn’t act as 
if he was even a quarter-brother I He was al- 
ways just as horrid as he could be. When Father 
died he wrote Mother to come here and he would 
provide her with a home. And when we came, 
we found he meant that Mother was to live here 
and pay him rent. She did n ’t have enough money 
to do that, and so Uncle Peter made the front 
of the house into a store and bought some things 
for her and made her sign a mortgage or some- 
thing. When he died, we thought maybe he had 
left Mother a little; but there wasn’t any will, 
and not much property, either — just the big 
house on Walnut Street and this place and about 
two thousand dollars. When the property was di- 
vided, Mother got the other heirs to let her have 
this as her portion of the estate, but she had 
to pay four hundred and fifty dollars for it. That 
took about all she had saved and more, and so 
we haven’t been able to do much to the house 
yet.” 

“It doesn’t look as if it needed much doing 
to,” said Ned, critically. 

“Oh, but it does ! It needs a new coat of paint, 
for one thing. And some of the blinds are broken, 


116 


THE TURNER TWINS 


And there ought to be a furnace in it. Stoves 
donT really keep it warm in winter. Some day 
we dl fix it up nicely, though. As soon as I get 
through high school, I ’m going to work and 
make a lot of money. 

‘^Attaboy!’’ approved Ned. ‘‘What are you 
going to do, Polly 

“I ^m learning stenography and typewriting, 
and Mr. Farmer, the lawyer, — he ^s the one who 
got the others to let Mother have the house when 
Uncle Peter’s estate was settled, — says he will 
find a place for me in his office. He ’s awfully 
nice. Some stenographers make lots of money, 
don’t they?” 

“I guess so,” Ned agreed. “There ’s a woman 
in Dad’s office who gets eighteen dollars a week.” 

Polly clasped her hands delightedly. “Maybe 
I would n ’t get that much, though. I guess Mr. 
Farmer does n ’t pay his stenographer very high 
wages. Maybe I ’d get twelve dollars, though. 
Don ’t you think I might ? ” 

“Sure!” said Laurie. “Don’t you let any one 
tell you any different. Didn’t folks think that 
your Uncle Peter left more money than was found, 
Polly?” 

“Oh, yes ; but no one really knew. The lawyers 
looked everywhere. If he did have any more, 
he must have hidden it away pretty well. They 
looked all through the house and dug holes in the 
cellar floor. It was very exciting. Mother thinks 


POLLY ENTERTAINS 


117 


he lost what money he had speculating in stocks 
and things. He used to go to New York about 
four times a year. No one knew what he did 
there, not even Hilary; but Mother thinks he 
went to see men who deal in stocks and that they 
got his money away from him.’^ 

‘‘Who is Hilary Laurie inquired. 

“Hilary was a colored man that Uncle had 
had a long time. It seemed to me that if Uncle 
had had much money, Hilary would have known 
about it; and he didnT.’^ 

“Where is he now! Hilary, I mean,’^ added 
Laurie, somewhat unnecessarily. 

“I don’t know. He went away a little while 
after Uncle Peter died. He said he was going 
to New York, I think.” 

“You don’t suppose he took the money with 
him, do you? I mean — ” 

“ Oh no ! ” Polly seemed quite horrified. ‘ ‘ Hil- 
ary was just as honest as honest! Why, Uncle 
Peter died owing him almost forty dollars and 
Hilary never got a cent of it ! The lawyers were 
too mean for anything!” 

“There ’s a fellow named Starling living there 
now,” Laurie said. “His father ’s rented the 
house for three years. Bob says that he ’s go- 
ing to find the money and give it to your 
mother.” 

Polly laughed. “Oh, I wish that he would! 
But I guess if the lawyers couldn’t find it he 


118 


THE TURNER TWINS 


never will. Lawyers, they say, can find money 
when nobody else can ! Is he nice ? ’ ^ 

‘‘Bob? Yes, he ’s a dandy chap. You ought 
to know him, Polly; he ’s your next-door neigh- 
bor.” 

“Back-door neighbor, you mean,” interpolated 
Ned. 

“I think I saw him in the garden one day,” said 
Polly. “His father is an engineer, Mae Fer- 
rand says, and he ’s building a big bridge for the 
railway. Or maybe it ’s a tunnel. I forget.” 

“Is Mae Something the girl with the molasses- 
candy hair you were with at the high school 
game ? ’ ’ Laurie asked. 

“Yes, but her hair isnT like molasses candy. 
It ^s perfectly lovely hair. It ’s like — like diluted 
sunshine ! ’ ’ 

Laurie whistled. “Gee I Did you get that, 
Neddie? Well, anyway, I like dark hair better.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, I don T ! I’d love to have hair like Mae ’s. 
And, what do you think, she likes my hair better 
than her own!” 

“Don’t blame her,” said Laurie. “What do 
you say, Ned?” 

“I say I ’ve got to beat it back and get into 
football togs. What time is it?” 

“Look at your own watch, you lazy loafer. 
Well, come on. I say, Polly, would your mother 
let you go to the game with me Saturday? That 
is, if you want to, of course.” 


POLLY ENTERTAINS 119 

‘‘Oh, I love to! But — ’ll ask her, any- 
way. And if she says I may, wonld yon mind if 
Mae went tooT We usually go together to the 
games.” 

“Not a bit. I ’ll be around again before Satur- 
day and see what she says.” 

“I would n’t *be surprised if she said yes,” re- 
marked Polly. “I think she must like you boys. 
Anyway, you ’re the first of the Hillman’s boys 
she has ever let me invite out here.” 

“Really? Bully for her! Wait till I say fare- 
well to Antoinette, ‘most beauteous of rabbits!’ 
What does she twitch her nose like that for?” 

“I think she ’s asking for some cabbits,” re- 
plied Polly, gravely. 

“She ’s making faces at you, you chump,” 
said Ned, rudely. “Come on.” They returned 
through the little living-room, empty save for a 
big black cat asleep in a rocking-chair, and found 
Mrs. Deane serving the first of the afternoon 
trade in the shop beyond. They said good after- 
noon to her very politely, and Polly went to the 
door with them. Outside on the walk, Ned nudged 
Laurie, and they paused side by side and gravely 
removed their caps. 

“We give you thanks and say farewell, Miss 
Polly.” 

“The visit ’s been, indeed, most jolly!” 


CHAPTER XI 


NED SPEAKS OUT 

T here was a cut in the football squad that 
afternoon and more than a dozen candidates 
were retired, leaving twenty-eight players for the 
first and scrub teams. Ned survived, as, indeed, 
he expected to ; for, while he knew his limitations, 
neither the coach nor the captain appeared to. 
Perhaps they were sometimes puzzled over flashes 
of ineptitude, or perhaps they put them down to 
temporary reversals of form; at least, Ned^s tal- 
ent was never seriously questioned by them. He 
had settled down as a regular half-back on the 
scrub eleven, although twice he had been called on 
in practice scrimmages to take Mason’s place at 
left half on the first squad. He was too light 
to make much headway in bucking plays, and his 
inability to start quickly handicapped him fre- 
quently in running; but as a kicker he was de- 
pendable and had developed a quite remarkable 
accuracy at forward passing. Against a light 
opponent or a slow one he could be counted on to 
play a fairly good game, although so far he had 
not been allowed the opportunity. With him on 
the scrub team was Hop Kendrick at quarter, and, 
120 


NED SPEAKS OUT 


121 


for a time, Kewpie at center. But Kewpie had 
trained down at last to a hundred and sixty-five 
pounds and was handling his weight and hulk with 
a new snappiness, and a few days after Ned be- 
came a part of the scrub outfit Kewpie was ele- 
vated to the first team, and a much disgruntled 
Holmes took his place on the second. 

With the defeat of Wagner School, Hillman’s 
ended her preliminary season. In that contest, 
played at home, the Blue showed a new aggres- 
siveness and much more speed; and, while she 
was able to score only one touch-down, and Pope 
failed miserably at goal, every one was well sat- 
isfied. Wagner had a strong team, and a victory 
over it was no small triumph. Hillman’s line 
held splendidly under the battering-ram tactics 
of the adversary, and her backs were fast and 
shifty. On attack, the Blue failed to gain consis- 
tently; but in the third period, with a captured 
fumble on Wagner’s thirty-three yards for en- 
couragement, Pope got free for half the distance, 
and Slavin and Mason, alternating, worked the 
enemy’s left side until the ball lay on the five- 
yard line. Then a fake attack on Wagner’s right, 
with Pope carrying the hall through on the left 
of center, brought the only score of the day. Kew- 
pie proved himself that afternoon, for he was a 
veritable Eock of Gibraltar on defense and a 
hundred and sixty-five pounds of steel springs 
on attack. The Blue team was far from a perfect 


122 


THE TURNER TWINS 


machine yet, but it seemed that Mulford had 
found his parts and that only a generous oiling 
was needed. 

Laurie and George Watson escorted Polly and 
Mae Ferrand to the game, and, although aware 
of the covert grins and whispered witticisms of 
acquaintances, enjoyed themselves hugely. Mae 
proved to be a very jolly, wholesome sort of girl, 
and her knowledge of what may be termed ^4n- 
side footbalP’ was stupendous and made both 
Laurie and George rather ashamed of their ig- 
norance. Between the halves, Ned, arrayed in a 
trailing gray blanket, joined them and promptly 
became involved with Mae in a very technical ar- 
gument that no one else could follow. From the 
fact that Ned retired with a rather dispirited 
expression when the teams came on again, Laurie 
surmised that the honors had gone to Mae. 

The following Monday evening, while the en- 
thusiasm produced by the victory over Wagner 
School was still undiminished, a second mass- 
meeting was held in the auditorium to devise 
means of replenishing the football treasury; 
Three of the remaining five games were to be 
played away from Orstead, and in two cases the 
distance to be traveled was considerable and the 
expenses consequently large. As Joe Stevenson 
said, introducing the subject for discussion, if 
Hillman’s charged admission to her home games, 
it would be possible to get through a season with- 


123 


NED SPEAKS OUT 

out asking for assistance from the student body. 
‘^But you fellows know that that is n^t the school 
policy. We are allowed to sell tickets for the Ear- 
view game only, and, while we make about four 
hundred and fifty dollars as our share, that 
doesn’t go very far against the season’s outlay. 
We have to pay from seventy-five to a hundred and 
twenty-five dollars to every team that comes here 
to play us. When we go away we seldom make 
enough to pay our expenses. In the Highland 
game, because it cost us almost nothing for fares, 
we did. At the present moment we have a cash 
balance on hand of forty-three dollars, and our 
liabilities, including Mr. Mulford’s salary for the 
remainder of the season, are about eight hundred 
dollars. 

‘^The manager estimates that we ’ll have to 
incur added expenses for about a hundred and 
twenty dollars for Farview game tickets and 
new supplies. In short, we shall have to pay out, 
before the season ends, about nine hundred dol- 
lars. Against that we have on hand forty-three 
dollars, and in prospect something like five hun- 
dred, leaving us about three hundred and fifty 
in the hole. 

‘‘There has been talk of cutting out the Lan- 
sing and Whittier games, but that would n’t make 
enough difference. Besides, it would give us a 
black eye to cancel games as late as this. We 
might save perhaps seventy dollars if we did. 


124 


THE TUKNEH TWINS 


but it would cost us ten times that in pub- 
lic estimation. As far as I can see, fellows, if 
we ’re going to have a football team, we ’ve got 
to pay for it. We ’ve asked permission to charge 
admission, even a nominal one, to all games, but 
the faculty is against it. And we have asked to 
have a regular assessment made against each 
student. To many of us that would seem the 
fairer and most satisfactory way of meeting the 
emergency. But the faculty doesn’t like that 
any better than the other proposition. So I guess 
it ’s up to us, each and every one of us, to dig 
down and produce the coin. 

‘^We need three hundred and fifty dollars at 
least. That means that every fellow in school 
must pony up four dollars, or, rather, that the 
average must be four dollars each. Some of you 
can’t give so much, probably, and a few can give 
more. I ’d like to hear from you, please. Don’t 
be afraid to say what you think. We want to 
get together on this matter and thrash it out, 
if it takes until ten o’clock. Any one who has 
any suggestion to offer or anything to say will 
be heard. Come on, somebody!” 

There were plenty of speakers : Dave Brewster, 
the baseball captain, Dan Whipple, senior class 
president. Lew Cooper, upper middle class presi- 
dent, Dave Murray, the manager of the team, 
Craig Jones, for the lower middlers, and many 
others. Some subsQribed to the donation scheme, 


NED SPEAKS OUT 


125 


others opposed it. Cooper suggested an appeal 
to the school alumni. Brewster pointed out that 
the effort would cost money and that the result 
would be uncertain and, in any case, slow. An in- 
crease in the price of tickets to the Farview game 
was discussed and the idea abandoned. An hour 
passed and the meeting was getting nowhere. 
Some of the younger boys had already withdrawn. 
A tall, lantern- jawed youth had charged the foot- 
ball committee with extravagance, and Dave 
Murray had bitterly resented the allegation. Ned, 
who, with Laurie and Lee Murdock, was seated 
near the back of the hall, had shown signs of 
restiveness for some time and had been mutter- 
ing to himself. Now, to the surprise of his com- 
panions, he jumped to his feet and demanded 
recognition : 

‘Air. Chairman!’’ 

“Mister — ” Dan Whipple pointed a finger at 
Ned and nodded. 

“Turner,” prompted Kewpie from a front seat. 

“Mr. Turner,” encouraged the chairman. 

“I ’d like to say that I never heard so much 
talking and saw so little action,” began Ned, 
impatiently. “What ’s the matter with some one 
saying something useful instead of just chewing 
the rag?” 

“You tell ’em,” piped a small junior, above the 
applause and laughter. 

“All right! I ’ll tell you fellows that you ’re 


126 


THE TURNER TWINS 


a lot of pikers to hesitate to pledge three or four 
hundred dollars to keep your team going. Where 
I come from we had to have a new grand stand 
two years ago, and we called a meeting like this 
and we raised seven hundred dollars in thirty-five 
minutes in cash and pledges. There were a lot 
more of us, but half of us would have felt like 
Rockefellers if we ’d ever found a whole half- 
dollar in our pockets! Some of us gave as high 
as five dollars, but not many. Most of us pledged 
two dollars; and those who did n’t have two dol- 
lars went out and worked until they ’d made it, 
by jingo! And we got our gr^nd stand up in- 
side of two weeks, in time for the big baseball 
game.” 

There was real applause this time, and those 
in the front of the hall had swung around to have 
a look at the earnest youth who was calling them 
names. 

‘^That ’s one way of getting the money,” con- 
tinued Ned, warming up finely, /‘but there ’s 
another. Out my way — ” 

“Say, where do you come from?” called some 
one. 

“I come from Calif orna,” answered Ned, 
proudly. “Maybe you Ve heard of it!” 

“Attaboy!” shouted .Kevpie. “Swing your 
leg, Nid!” 

“When we want to raise some money out there 
and folks are too stingy to give it outright, we 


NED SPEAKS OUT 


127 


take it away from them another way. We get 
up a fete. We give them a good time and they 
pay for it. Why not try it here? I don’t know 
how many folks there are in this bnrg, bpt I reckon 
there are enough to part with three or four hun- 
dred dollars. Give them an excuse to spend their 
money and they ’ll spend it!” 

Ned sat down amid loud applause, and Dave 
Brewster was recognized, although half a dozen 
others were clamoring for speech. 

‘^Turner ’s said something, fellows,” declared 
Brewster. ^^The idea ’s worth considering. 
We ’ve never tackled the town folks for money, 
and there ’s no reason why they shouldn’t come 
across. They ’ve come to our games for years 
without paying a cent, except for the Farview 
game, and it would n ’t hurt them to give a little 
to a good cause. I don’t know what sort of a 
fete Turner has in mind, but I should think we 
might get up something that would do the busi- 
ness.” 

^^Mr. Chairman,” said Kewpie, ‘‘I move that 
a committee of tlfree be appointed by the chair, 
to include Nid, — I mean Mr. Turner, — to consider 
the — the matter of giving a fete to raise the 
money.” 

^‘Seconded!” 

You have heard the motion,” droned Whipple. 
‘‘All those in favor will so signify by saying 
‘Aye.’ Contrary, ‘No.’ Moved and carried. I 


128 


THE TURNER TWINS 


will appoint the presidents of the senior and 
upper middle classes and Mr. Turner to the com- 
mittee, three in all. Is it the sense of this meet- 
ing that your committee is to report to it at a sub- 
sequent meeting, or is it to have authority to pro- 
ceed with the matter if it decides that the scheme 
is a good one?’^ 

^‘Full authority, Mr. Chairman!^’ ‘‘Let ^em go 
ahead with it ! ’ ^ “ Sure ! That ’s what we want. 
Let ’s have action ! ’ ’ 

“Is there any other business? Then I declare 
the meeting adjourned!^’ 

Whipple captured Ned on the way out. “We ’d 
better get together right away on this, Turner,^’ 
he said. “Can you meet Cooper and me at my 
room to-morrow at twelve?’’ 

Ned agreed, and he and Laurie and Lee went 
on. “What I ’d like to know,” remarked 
Laurie, after a moment’s silence, “is how you ’re 
going to have a fete in a place like this. The 
weather ’s too cold for it.” 

“Maybe it will be warmer,” answered Ned, 
cheerfully. “Besides, we don’t have to have it 
outdoors. ’ ’ 

“It wouldn’t be a fete if you didn’t,” sniffed 
the other. 

“Well, what ’s the difference? Call it any- 
thing you like. The big thing is to get the 
money. ’ ’ 


NED SPEAKS OUT 129 

‘‘You had your cheek with you to talk the way 
you did/’ chuckled Laurie. 

“He talked sense, though,” asserted Lee, 
warmly. 

“Of course. The Turners always do.” Laurie 
steered Ned toward the entrance of East Hall. 
“Well, good night, Lee. See you at the fete!” 

Upstairs, Ned tossed his cap to the bed, plumped 
himself into a chair at the table, and drew paper 
and pencil to him. “Now,” he said, “let ’s fig- 
ure this out. I Ve got to talk turkey to those 
fellows to-morrow. What ’s your idea, partner ? ’ ’ 

“Hey, where do you get that stuff?” demanded 
Laurie. “Why drag me into it? It ’s not my 
fete. I don’t own it.” 

“Shut up and sit down there before I punch 
your head. You ’ve got to help with this. The 
honor of the Turners is at stake!” 

So Laurie subsided and for more than an hour 
he and Ned racked their brains and gradually the 
plan took shape. 


CHAPTEE XII 


THE COMMITTEE ON AERANGEMENTS 

‘‘T T ’S like this/’ explained Ned. He and Laurie 
and Polly and Mae Ferrand were in the little 
garden behind the shop. The girls were on the 
bench and the boys were seated on the turf be- 
fore the arbor, their knees encircled with their 
arms. A few yards away Antoinette eyed them 
gravely and twitched her nose. On the porch 
step, Towser, the big black cat, blinked benignly, 
sometimes shifting his gaze to the branches of 
the maple in the next yard, where an impudent 
black-and-white woodpecker was seeking a late 
luncheon. 

There are two sub-committees,” continued 
Ned, earnestly. ‘‘Whipple and Cooper are the 
Committee on Finance and Publicity, and Laurie 
and I are the Committee on Arrangements. I told 
them I had to have help and so they took Laurie 
in.” 

“No thanks to you,” grumbled Laurie, who 
was, however, secretly much pleased. 

“It ’s going to be next Saturday afternoon and 
evening, and this is Tuesday, and so there isn’t 
much time. We were afraid to make it any later 
130 


COMMITTEE ON AEEANGEMENTS 131 


because the weather might get too cold. Besides, 
the team needs the money right off. I looked in 
an almanac and it said that next Saturday would 
be fair and warm, so that ’s all right. 

‘‘But don^t you think almanacs make mistakes 
sometimes?’’ asked Polly. “I know ours does. 
When we had our high- school picnic, the almanac 
said ‘showers’ and it was a perfectly gorgeous 
day. I carried my mackintosh around all day 
and it was a perfect nuisance. Don’t you re- 
member, Mae?” 

“Well, you ’ve got to believe in something,” 
declared Ned. “Anyway, we ’re going to have it 
at Bob Starling’s, and if it ’s too cold outdoors, 
we ’ll move inside.” 

“You mean at Uncle Peter’s?” exclaimed Polly. 

“Yes. We thought of having it at school first, 
but Mr. Hillman didn’t like it much; and be- 
sides, the fellows would be inside without having 
to pay to get there ! You see, it ’s going to cost 
every one a quarter just to get in.” 

“And how much to get out?” asked Mae, inno- 
cently. 

Ned grinned. “As much as we can get away 
from them. There ’ll be twelve booths to sell 
things in — ” 

“What sort of things?” Polly inquired. 

“All sorts. Eats and drinks and everything. 
We ’re getting the storekeepers to donate things. 
So far they ’ve just given us things that they 


132 


THE TUEiSTER TWINS 


havenT been able to sell, a pile of jnnk; but 
we ^re going to stop that. Biddle, the hardware 
man, gave us a dozen cheap pocket-knives, but 
he ’s got to come across again. We Ve been 
to only eight of them so far, but we havenT 
done so worse. Guess we Ve got enough truck 
for one booth already. And then there dl be one 
of them for a rummage sale. We ^re going to 
get each of the fellows to give us something for 
that, and I ’ll bet we ’ll have a fine lot of truck. 
Each booth will represent a college and be deco- 
rated in the proper colors : Yale, Harvard, Prince- 
ton, and so on. And — and now it ’s your turn, 
Laurie. ’ ’ 

“Yes, I notice that I always have to do the 
dirty work, ’ ’ said the other. He hugged his knees 
tighter, rolled over on his back for inspiration, 
and, when he again faced his audience on the 
bench, smiled his nicest. “Here ’s where you 
girls come in,” he announced. “We want you 
two to take two of the booths and get a girl for 
each of the others. Want to?” 

“Oh, it would be darling!” cried Polly. 

“ I ’d love to ! ” said Mae. 

“Only — ” 

“Only—” 

“Only what?” asked Ned, as the girls viewed 
each other doubtfully. 

“I ’m not sure Mother would let me,” sighed 
Polly. “Do you think she would, Mae?” 


COMMITTEE ON AEEANGEMENTS 133 


don’t believe so. And I don’t believe Mama 
would let me. She — she ’s awfully particular that 
way.” 

‘‘Gee!” said Ned, in disappointed tones, “I 
don’t see why not! It isn’t as if — ” 

“Of course it isn’t,” agreed Laurie. “Be- 
sides, your mothers would be there too!” 

“Would they?” asked Mae, uncertainly. 

“Of course! Every one’s coming! What 
harm would there be in it? You can do things 
for — for charity that you can ’t do any other time ! 
All you ’d have to do would be to just stand 
behind the booth and sell things. It won’t be 
hard. Everything will have the price marked on 
it and’ — ” 

“You won’t need to go by the prices always, 
though,” interpolated Ned. “I mean, if you can 
get more than the thing is marked, you ’d better 
do it! And then there ’s the — the costumes, 
Laurie.” 

“Oh, yes, I forgot. We ’d like each girl to sort 
of wear something that would sort of match the 
college she represented — sort of,” he explained 
apologetically. “If you had the Yale booth, you 
could wear a dark-blue waist, and so on. Do 
you think that would be possible?” 

Polly giggled. “We might ask Stella Hatch to 
take the Harvard booth, Mae. With her hair, 
she wouldn’t have to dress much!” 

“And you and Polly could take your first pick,” 


134 


THE TUENER TWINS 


observed Laurie, craftily. ‘‘You ’d look swell 
as — as Dartmouth, Mae!’^ 

“In green! My gracious, Ned I No, thank 
you! But Polly ought to be Yale. She looks 
lovely in blue. I think I ^d like to be Cornell. My 
brother Harry ’s in Cornell.’’ 

“All right,” agreed Ned. “I wish you ’d ask 
your mothers soon, will you? Do try, because 
we ’ve just got to get girls for the booths. You ’d 
have lots of fun, too. The Banjo and Mandolin 
Club is going to play for dancing for an hour at 
five and nine, and there ’ll be an entertainment, 
too.” 

“What sort?” asked Polly. 

“We don’t know yet. Some of the gym- 
nastic team will do stunts, I think, for one thing, 
and there ’ll be singing and maybe Laurie will 
do some rope-swinging — ” 

“I told you a dozen times I wouldn’t! Be- 
sides, I haven’t any rope.” 

“We can find one, probably,” replied his 
brother, untroubled. “We haven’t settled 
about the entertainment yet. And there are two 
or three other things we haven’t got to. Star- 
ling’s going to have his garden all fixed up, and 
he ’s going to cover the old arbor with branches 
and hang Chinese lanterns in it and have little 
tables and chairs there for folks to sit down and 
eat ice-cream and cake. 

“And that reminds me, Polly. Do you suppose 


COMMITTEE ON AERANGEMENTS 135 


that Miss Comfort would make some cakes 
for us?^’ 

‘‘Why, yes, Nid, hut — hut you ^d have to buy 
them. I donT think you ought to expect her to 
donate them.’’ 

“We meant to huy them, of course, Polly. 
And we wondered if your mother would make 
some of those dandy cream-puffs.” 

“I ’m sure she wiU. How many would you 
want?” 

“I don’t know. You see, there ’s no way of 
telling how many will come. There are three 
thousand people in Or stead, hut that doesn’t 
mean much, does it? The ‘Messenger’ editor ’s 
agreed to put in an advertisement for us for 
nothing, and there ’ll he notices all around town 
in the windows: we got the man who prints the 
school monthly to do them for just the cost of 
the paper. So folks ought to come, shouldn’t 
you think?” 

“Oh, I ’m sure they will!” agreed Polly, and 
Mae echoed her. “But it ’ll he dreadfully hard 
to know how much cake and ice-cream and re- 
freshments to order, won’t it?” 

“Fierce,” agreed Ned. “I suppose the best 
way will he to reckon on, say, three hundred 
and order that much stuff. Only, how do you 
tell how much three hundred will eat ? ’ ’ 

“Why, you can’t! Besides, Nid, three hun- 
dred people would only bring in seventy-five 
dollars!” 


136 


THE TUENEE TWINS 


‘‘In admissions, yes; bnt we Ve got to make 
them buy things when we get them in there. 
If every one spent a dollar inside — 

“But lots of them won^t. Do you think they 
will, Mae?’^ 

Mae shook her head. “No, I don’t. Lots and 
lots will just come out of curiosity and won’t 
spend a cent. I know, boys, because that ’s the 
way they act at the fairs here.” 

Ned kicked at the turf gloomily. “Gee, that ’s 
fierce!” he muttered. 

“Well, we ’d ought to get more than three hun- 
dred folks,” said Laurie. “Eemember, it ’s to 
be afternoon and evening too. I ’ll bet there ’ll 
be nearer six hundred than three.” 

Ned brightened. “That ’s so. And six hun- 
dred, even if they only averaged fifty cents apiece, 
would be three hundred dollars. And I guess if 
we can make three hundred, we can dig up the 
other fifty! Well, we ’ve got to get busy, Laurie. 
I got them to give me a cut from practice this 
afternoon and I ’ll have to make the most of 
my time,” he explained to the girls. 

“Oh! And did they let you off, too. Nod?” 
asked Polly. 

“No, we ’re through with baseball,” Laurie 
answered. “No more till spring. I ’m just fairly 
broken-hearted ! ’ ’ 

“When will you know about helping us, Polly?” 
Ned asked. 



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COMMITTEE ON AEEANGEMENTS 137 


‘‘I ’ll ask Mother right away; and you ’ll ask, 
too, won’t you, Mae? Can you stop in this eve- 
ning? I do hope it ’ll be all right!” 

^‘So do we!” said Ned and Laurie, in a breath. 
‘‘Eather !” 

And the Committee on Arrangements hurried 
away. 

That night the committee met again in Dan 
Whipple’s room in West Hall and satisfactory 
progress was reported all along the line. Ned 
read a list of donations from the town merchants, 
and announced that twelve young ladies from 
the high school would be on hand, appropriately 
attired, to take charge of the booths. Lew Cooper 
showed proofs of the poster that was to be dis- 
played in windows and tacked on posts and 
fences, and of the four-inch, double-column ad- 
vertisement to appear in the ^‘Messenger.” Dan 
reported that Mr. Wells, the physical director, 
had promised to see that the best six members 
of the gymnastic team should exhibit afternoon 
and evening. 

^‘That means, though,” he said, ^‘that we ’ll 
have to have some kind of a platform. Better 
make a note of that. Lew.” 

‘‘Platforms cost money,” answered Lew, dubi- 
ously. “Maybe we can borrow — I ’ll tell you 
what ! There ’s one stored over in the field-house, 
one they use to set the dressing-tent on. It ’s 
in two pieces, — sections,' — but I guess it ’s big 


138 THE TURNER TWINS 

enough. We ^11 see if we can’t get the use of 
it.” 

‘‘Good! Better ask Mr. Wells. Say, Hal, did 
you see Norris?” 

Hal Pringle was Dan’s room-mate, and, while 
he was usually present at the meetings, he was 
careful to keep himself in the background unless 
called on for advice. Now he looked up from his 
book and nodded. “Yes, it ’s all right. They ’ll 
play for an hour in the afternoon and an hour at 
night. I had to promise them eats, though.” 

“Of course. Much obliged. Speaking of eats, 
fellows, what ’s been done about the refresh- 
ments ? ’ ’ 

“Nothing yet,” answered Ned. “I wanted to 
talk that over. How many sandwiches and how 
much salad will we want? And how many gal- 
lons of ice-cream and — ” 

“Whoa!” begged Dan. “Blessed if I know! 
How the dickens are we going to know how much 
food will be needed? What ’s the rule about it? 
Or isn’t there any?” 

“Depends on how many will attend the show,” 
said Lew. “Find that out — ” 

“How ’re we going to find it out, you chump? 
How many do you suppose we can count on, 
Ned?” 

“Maybe six hundred,” was the answer. “But 
if it should rain — ” 

“There you are! If it rained, we mightn’t 


COMMITTEE ON ARRANGEMENTS 139 


get two hundred! I’ll say that ’s a problem. 
We ’d be in a fine fix if we found ourselves with 
two or three freezers of ice-cream on our hands 
and a lot of other truck. Look here, Tabby might 
know. Suppose you ask her, Ned. We ’ve got 
to have enough and not too much. ’ ’ 

‘^It ’ll be all right about the ice-cream,” said 
Laurie. ‘‘The man said we could return what 
we did n ’t open if we got it back that night so he 
could pack it over. But the other things — ” 

“You talk to Tabby in the morning,” repeated 
Dan. “She ’ll know if any one does. Now what 
else! What about the entertainment part of it, 
Mr. Chairman of the Committee on Arrange- 
ments? What have you got in mind besides the 
gymnastics?” 

“We thought we might find some one who could 
sing or dance. But we don’t know many of the 
fellows.” 

“Bully! There ’s Cheesman, Lew. He ’s a 
corker. And Kewpie isn’t so bad. He sings a 
funny song mighty well.” 

“He couldn’t sing it in the afternoon, though, 
Dan: he ’d be at the field.” 

“That ’s so! still, the game ought to be fin- 
ished by four. We wouldn’t have the enter- 
tainment part until late, would we?” 

“About four, I thought,” said Ned, “but Kew- 
pie could come last. I ’ll put him down, any- 
way. ’ ’ 


140 


THE TURNER TWINS 


^‘Anything else besides songs?’’ asked Dan. 

^^Yes, only — ” Ned dropped his voice and 
glanced at Pringle — ^‘only it ’s got to be kept 
a secret to make good.” 

‘^Oh, Hal ’s all right. He ’s a sort of ex-officio 
member of the committee. Shoot, Ned ! ” 


CHAPTER XIII 


NED GETS INTO THE GAME 

TpOUR hectic days followed. To Laurie, since 
^ Ned was held for two hours each afternoon 
at the football field, fell most of the duties of the 
Committee on Arrangements, and he was a very 
busy youth. He badgered shopkeepers into part- 
ing with goods to be sold at the booths, helped 
Bob Starling trim up the old arbor in the garden 
of the Coventry place, made frequent trips to the 
Orstead caterer’s, engaged eight cakes from Miss 
Comfort and twelve dozen cream-puffs from the 
Widow Deane, spent two hours Wednesday help- 
ing Lew and Hal Pringle distribute posters 
throughout the village, and attended to a hun- 
dred other matters between-times. Of course, 
Ned aided when he could, and was helpful with ad- 
vice and unfailing in suggestions ; but recitations 
and football practice did n’t leave him much time, 
even though he conscientiously arose a full hour 
earlier every morning that week, and skimped 
studying so much that he got in trouble with three 
instructors in one day! 

Miss Tabitha had proved as helpful as Dan 
Whipple had predicted. She had shaken her head 

141 


142 


THE TURNER TWINS 


at the idea of entertaining six hundred at the 
fete. ^‘You mustn’t count on more than half 
that many,” she said. dare say all the boys 
will go, and they ’ll make ninety. Then, if you 
get two hundred of the townsfolk, you ’ll be 
doing very nicely. Don’t decide how much salad 
or how many sandwiches you want until Saturday 
morning. So much will depend on the weather. 
Even if you hold the affair indoors, lots of folks 
won’t come if it rains. You say you ’ve ordered 
eight cakes from Martha Comfort and twelve 
dozen cream-putfs from Mrs. Deane 

‘‘Yes ’m,” said Ned. “We wanted Mrs. Deane 
to make more, but she didn’t think she 
could. ’ ’ 

“Well, that ’s a hundred and fourty-four cream- 
puffs, and — let me see — one of Miss Comfort’s 
cakes will cut into sixteen pieces, and eight times 
sixteen — ” 

“A hundred and twenty-eight, ma’am.” 

“Well, and a hundred and twenty-eight and a 
hundred and forty-four — ” 

“Two hundred and seventy-two.” 

“You’re real quick at figures, arenT you? 
Seems as if, though, counting on three hundred, 
you ’d be a little short. I ’ll have Aunt Persis 
make one of her marble-cakes. That ’ll help out, 
I guess.” 

“Yes ’m; thanks awfully,” answered Ned. 

“Who is going to serve the refreshments?’^ 


NED GETS INTO THE GAME 143 


^^Why — why — Ned’s face fell. guess 
we hadn’t thought of that!” 

‘‘Well, it makes a heap of difference, because 
you can make a quart of ice-cream serve ten 
people or twenty, just as you ’ve a mind to. I 
usually count on sixteen. Same way with a loaf 
of cake, and same way with salad. It ’s awfully 
easy to waste salad when you ’re serving it. Now, 
if you ’d like me to, Ned, I ’ll attend to serving 
everything for you. You just have the things 
set down there and I ’ll look after them.” 

“Oh, Miss Hillman, if you would! Gee, that 
would be great ! It — it ’ll be a lot of trouble, 
though, ma’am.” 

“Well, I guess it won’t be the first trouble I ’ve 
seen,” replied Miss Tabitha, dryly; “nor it won’t 
be the last!” 

Thursday afternoon Laurie hurried over to the 
Coventry place as soon as a two-o ’clock recitation 
was done. Bob was awaiting him at the gate, and 
conducted him around to the back of the big 
square house. Ned stared in surprise. The 
tangle of trees and vines and shrubbery had been 
trimmed to orderly neatness, the long, unkempt 
grass had been shorn to a yellow, but respectable, 
turf, and the old arbor showed new strips where 
Thomas, the Starlings ’ man, had been at work on 
the decrepit frame. Near at hand lay piles of 
cedar and hemlock branches. 

“Dad got a couple of the men to cut those 


144 


THE TURNER TWINS 


down near the tunnel and haul them up here.’^ 
Bob explained. ‘‘Thomas is going to help us put 
them up. He made a peachy job of the garden, 
didnT heU’ 

“You bet!’^ responded Laurie, heartily. “I 
would nT have known the place! I say, Bob, 
this arbor ^s longer than I thought it was.’’ 

“Forty feet, about. Why?” 

“I only ordered six tables and a dozen chairs 
from the caterer,” answered Laurie, dubiously. 
“Guess they aren’t enough; but he ’s charging 
twenty-five cents apiece for them — ” 

“Twenty-five cents for a table? Isn’t that 
dirt-cheap ? ’ ’ 

“We ’re only renting them, you idiot !” 

“Oh, I see. Well, six is enough, I guess; you 
don’t want to crowd them. Now let ’s get busy 
with the green stuff. I ’ll yell down cellar for 
Thomas. There ’s a ball of twine, and I ’ve got 
two hammers and a lot of tacks on the side porch. 
You take your coat off and I ’ll — ” 

“We ’ll have to have a step-ladder. Bob!” 

“There ’s a short ladder right beside you. Be 
right back. ’ ’ 

Laurie sat down on a wheelbarrow, after re- 
moving his coat and folding back the sleeves 
of his shirt, and looked around him. The gar- 
den was fairly large — larger in appearance since 
the clutter of shrubbery along the sides had been 
cleared away. Along the School Park edge ran 


NED GETS INTO THE GAME 145 

a tall hedge of lilac bushes. At the back was the 
high board fence, painted dark brown, that 
separated the garden from the Widow Deane’s 
humble property. On the other side was a rusty 
ornamental iron fence, mostly hidden by vines. 
Broad walks, in spite of Thomas’s efforts rather 
overrun with weeds, surrounded the central plot 
of ancient turf, and another ran straight down 
the middle of the garden, connecting with the ar- 
bor. Wires were to be strung from the trees and 
across to the arbor, and Chinese lanterns hung 
thereon. Laurie, half closing his eyes, sought 
to visualize the place as it would appear on Sat- 
urday. He did want the affair to be a success, 
both financial and artistic, both on account of the 
school and — ^well, for the honor of the Turners! 
While he was musing, two things happened simul- 
taneously: Bob and Thomas appeared from the 
house, and a familiar voice came to him from the 
opposite direction. 

^^Nod!” called the voice. ‘‘Nod, will you please 
come here a moment?” 

Laurie’s eyes sought the board fence. Over 
the top of it appeared the head and shoulders of 
Polly. He left the wheelbarrow and hurried 
through the arbor and down the walk beyond. 
Polly’s face indicated distress, whether mental or 
physical Laurie could n’t determine. But Polly’s 
first words explained. 

“I can’t stay here 1-long,” she said. “I — I ’m 


146 


THE TURNER TWINS 


just hanging by my elbows. I cl-climbed up on a 
board, and it ^s fallen down ! ’ ’ 

’ll get you a ladder !” cried Laurie, gallantly. 

^‘N-no, never mind. I ’m going to drop in a 
s-second. I just want to ask you what Brown’s 
color is. Nettie Blanchard is going to be Brown 
and — ” 

“Why, brown, of course!” 

“Oh!” There was the sound of desperate scrap- 
ing against the farther side of the fence, and 
Polly’s countenance became fairly convulsed with 
the effort of holding herself in sight. “ Oh ! She 
said it was pur-pur — ” 

Polly disappeared. There was a thud from the 
next yard. 

“Purple!” The word floated across to him, 
muffled but triumphant. 

“Are you hurt, Polly?” he called anxiously. 

“Not a bit,” was the rueful response, “but I ’m 
afraid the day-lilies are!” Then she laughed 
merrily. “Thanks, Nod! I didn’t think Nettie 
was right. She loves purple, you see!” 

“Does she? Well, say, maybe she can be Wil- 
liams. We weren’t going to have Williams, but 
its color is purple, I think, and if she is going to 
be disappointed — ” 

‘ ^ She will look very well indeed in brown, ’ ’ came 
from the other side in judicial tones; “and if 
we begin making changes, half the girls will want 
to be something they are n’t. Why^ Pearl Fayles 


NED GETS INTO THE GAME 147 


begged to be some girls’ college neither Mae nor 
I had ever heard of, just so she could wear laven- 
der and pale lemon ! ’ ’ 

‘ ^ W ell, all right, ’ ’ laughed Laurie. ^ ^ She ’d bet- 
ter stick to Brown — and brown ! Good-by, Polly. 
I ’ll drop in after a while and find out how things 
are getting on.” 

He turned to find Bob viewing him quizzically 
from the end of the arbor, swinging a hammer in 
each hand. ^ ^ Of course it ’s all right, I dare say, ’ ’ 
he announced, ‘^but I thought you came here to fix 
up the arbor. Instead of that I find you talking 
to girls over the fence!” 

“There ’s only one girl,” replied Laurie, with 
dignity, “and we were talking business.” 

“Oh, of course! Sorry I interrupted.” 

“You needn’t be, and you didn’t. Quit grin- 
ning like a simpleton and give me a hammer ! ’ ’ 

“Right- 0 ! Come on, Thomas! It’s quite all 
right now ! ’ ’ 

An hour later their task was done, and well 
done, and they viewed it with approval. To be 
honest, the major part of the work had been per- 
formed by the faithful Thomas, although it is not 
to be denied that both Laurie and Bob toiled con- 
scientiously. Before they were through approv- 
ing the result from various angles, Bob’s father 
joined them. Mr. Starling was an older edition 
of Bob — a tall, straight, lean-visaged man of 
forty-two or -three, with the complexion of one 


148 


THE TUENER TWINS 


who had lived an outdoor life. He had a deep, 
pleasant voice and a quiet manner not fully in ac- 
cord with a pair of keen eyes and a firm mouth. 

^d call that a good piece of work, boys,’^ he 
said, as he joined them. ‘‘And right up to specifi- 
cations, too. Those paper lanterns come yet, 
Bohr’ 

“No, sir; I havenT seen them.’’ 

“Lanterns, Mr. Starling?” asked Laurie. “Ho 
you mean Chinese lanterns? We ’ve ordered a 
lot from the caterer, sir.” 

“Tell him you won’t need them, then. I ’ve 
got a hundred coming up from the city. Turner. 
They ought to be here, too. Thomas, call up the 
express company and ask about them. ’ ’ 

“That ’s very kind, sir,” said Laurie, “but you 
need n’t have done it. You — you ’re doing every- 
thing!*^ 

“Nonsense! Bob and I want to do our part, of 
course. Well, this wilderness certainly looks dif- 
ferent, doesn’t it? That reminds me. Bob; the 
agent writes me that we may ‘ make such improve- 
ments to the property as we desire.’ So, as I con- 
sider the absence of that arbor an improvement, 
I guess you can pull it down any time you like. 
I ’m going to have a cup of tea. Turner. Will 
you join me? I believe there will be cakes, too.” 

Laurie found Ned in rather a low frame of mind 
when he got back to Number 16 a half-hour before 
supper-time. Ned was hunched over a Latin book 


NED GETS INTO THE GAME 149 


and each hand held a firm grip on his hair. At 
Laurie arrival he merely grunted. 

Where does it pain you mostT’ asked Laurie, 
solicitously, subsiding into a chair with a weary 
sigh. Ned’s mood was far from flippant. He 
rewarded the other with a scowl, and bent his 
gaze on the book again. ^‘Want to hear the latest 
news from the front?” persisted Laurie. 

‘ ^ No, I don ’t ! ” his brother growled. ‘ H Ve had 
all the news I can stand. Smug says that if I 
don’t get this rotten stuff by nine to-night, and 
make a perfect showing to-morrow, he will can 
me !” 

^‘Mr. Cornish said that?” gasped Laurie. 
^‘What do you know about that? Why, I thought 
he was a gentleman ! ’ ’ 

‘‘He ’s a — a brute ! I can’t learn the old stuff ! 
And I have a hunch that Mulford means to give 
me a try in the Loring game Saturday. And if I 
don’t get this, Cornish will fix it so I can’t play. 
He as good as said so.” 

‘ ‘ Did n ’t you tell him you ’d been busy with the 
fete and everything?” 

“Of course I did. Much he cared! Just made 
a rotten pun. Said I ’d better keep my own fate 
in mind. Puns are fearfully low and vulgar!” 

“Aren’t they? How much of that have you 
got?” 

“Six pages. I — I ’ve sort of neglected it the 
last two days. Some fellows can fake through. 


150 THE TURNER TWINS 

but I don’t have any luck. He ’s always picking 
on me.” 

Laurie whistled expressively. ‘‘Six pages! 
Well, never say die, partner. We’ll get down to 
supper early, and that ’ll give us two hours before 
nine.” 

“Us?” questioned Ned, hopefully. 

“Sure. I ’ll give you a hand. As the well- 
known proverb so wisely remarks, two heads are 
the shortest way home. ’ ’ 

Ned grinned, and stopped tormenting his hair. 
“Honest? That ’s mighty decent, Laurie. I ’ll 
do as much for you some day.” 

“Hope you won’t have to. Wash your dirty 
face and let ’s beat it!” 

At half -past nine a more cheerful and much re- 
lieved Ned returned from the hall master’s study. 
“All right,” he announced to an anxious Laurie. 
‘ ‘ He was rather decent, too. Said he guessed that, 
in view of the manifold affairs engaging my at- 
tention just now, — you know the crazy way he 
talks, — he wouldn’t demand too much from me. 
Reckon he means to let me down easy to-morrow, 
eh?” 

‘ ‘ Maybe, partner, and maybe not. Take my ad- 
vice and, in the words of the Scouts, be prepared ! ’ ’ 

Friday was a hectic day for Laurie and all 
others concerned with the fete. Difficulties that 
had remained in ambush all the week sprang out 


NED GETS INTO THE GAME 151 

and confronted them at the last moment. Half a 
dozen things had been forgotten, and every mem- 
ber of the committee sought to exonerate him- 
self. Tempers were short and the meeting in 
Dan Whipple ^s room at nine o ^clock was far from 
harmonious. All went to bed that night firmly 
convinced that the affair was doomed to be a flat 
failure. And, to add to that conviction, the night 
sky was overcast and an unsympathetic easterly 
wind was blowing. Ned, conscious of having im- 
posed too many duties on Laurie, was grouchy 
and silent ; and Laurie, convinced that he had been 
made a ^‘goat’’ of, and that Ned was secretly 
blaming him for mistakes and omissions that were 
no fault of his, retired in high dudgeon. 

And yet, the morning dawned fair and warm, 
with an almost cloudless blue sky over the world, 
and life looked very different indeed. Ned arose 
whistling, and Laurie somehow knew that every- 
thing would be all right. Fortunately, they had 
but two recitations on Saturday, and in conse- 
quence there remained to them three whole hours 
before dinner to devote to the affairs of the en- 
tertainment. They were busy hours, you may be 
sure. If Ned hurried downtown once, he hurried 
there half a dozen times ; while Laurie, seated be- 
side the driver of a rickety express-wagon, 
rounded up all kinds of things, from the platform 
at the field-house to the cakes at Miss Comfort ^s. 


152 


THE TURNER TWINS 


Dinner brought a respite; but as soon as it was 
over, Laurie was back on the job, while Ned joined 
the football-players. 

Of course, what the Hillman ^s School football 
team should have done that afternoon was to score 
a decisive victory over the visiting eleven. What 
it did do was to get thoroughly worsted. Loring 
was something of a surprise, with a heavier line 
and a faster bunch of backs than Hillman’s had 
expected. And Loring knew a lot of football, 
and proved the fact early in the game. At half- 
past two, by which time the second period was 
half over, the result was a foregone conclusion. 
Loring had scored two touch-downs and as many 
goals therefrom, and the Blue had never once 
threatened the adversary’s last white line. Gains 
through the opponent were infrequent and short, 
even Pope, who could generally be depended on to 
tear off a few yards when the worst came to the 
worst, failing dismally. 

In midfield. Mason and Slavin made some stir- 
ring advances around the Loring wings, and there 
were several successful forward passes to the 
home team’s credit; but, once past Loring ’s thirty- 
yard line, Hillman’s seemed powerless. The third 
quarter went scoreless, and in the fourth, realizing 
doubtless that defeat was certain. Coach Mulford 
used his substitutes lavishly. Ned made his first 
appearance on the big team in that period, taking 
Mason’s place for some eight of the fifteen 


NED GETS INTO THE GAME 153 


minutes. He did neither better nor worse than 
the other second- and third-string fellows, per- 
haps — although, when Pope was taken out and 
Peering substituted at full-hack, he did his share 
of the punting and performed very creditably. 
But that fourth period gave Loring an oppor- 
tunity to add to her score, and she seized it. Even 
with several substitutes in her own line-up, she 
was still far better than Hlilman^s, and a goal 
from the field and, in the last few moments of the 
game, a third touch-down, resulted. 

The Blue fought desperately and gamely with 
her back to the wall, in an effort to stave off that 
last score ; but eventually Holmes, who had taken 
Kewpie’s place at center, weakened, and the Lor- 
ing back piled through. The final score was 23 
to 0, and what two hours before had been looked 
on as a victory or, at the worst, a tie, had become 
a cataclysm! Humiliated, if not disgraced, the 
home-team players trailed to the field-house with 
hanging heads, averting their eyes from the 
sight of Loring ^s triumphal march around the 
gridiron. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE FETE 

B ehold Fairyland! 

Well, at least an excellent imitation of what 
Fairyland must look like. Overhead, a clear, 
star-sprinkled sky; below, scores of gaily-hued 
lanterns shedding their soft glow over a charm- 
ing scene. Through the side gate, please, on 
School Park. Twenty-five cents to the boy on 
duty there, and you are inside, with the manifold 
attractions awaiting you. On three sides of the 
transformed garden are the college booths, each 
decked with bunting and flags of appropriate col- 
ors, and each presided over by a patriotically at- 
tired young lady who will gladly, nay, eagerly, 
sell you almost anything from a cake of soap 
(^‘Donated by the Town Square Pharmacy, H. 
J. Congreve, Prop’r.^0 a knitted sweater or a 
gingham house-dress (‘^Compliments of The New 
York Store, High Class Dry Goods^O* Near at 
hand, Yale is represented by Miss Polly Deane, 
capped and aproned in blue, her eyes sparkling 
and her voice sweetly insistent : “ Won T you buy 
something, please, sir? Post-cards, two for five! 
These pictures are only fifty cents, all beauti- 

154 


THE FETE 155 

fully framed and ready for hanging! Can I sell 
you something, ma’am?’^ 

Beyond, gay with orange and black, isi the 
Princeton booth; and still beyond,. Dartmouth 
and Columbia and California; and then, a blur 
of brilliant crimson through the leafage, Har- 
vard. And so on all around the garden, with 
merry voices sounding above the chatter of 
the throng that moves here and there. Down 
the center of Fairyland runs a leafy tunnel from 
within which blue and red and yellow and green 
rays twinkle. There, under the hanging lanterns, 
little tables and chairs are dotted on the gravel, 
and half a dozen aproned youths are busy bear- 
ing, not always without mishap, plates of salad 
and rolls and dishes of ice-cream and cake. Close 
to the back of the house is a platform illumined 
by a row of electric lights, the one glaring spot 
in the area of soft radiance. 

‘‘How ^s it going asked a heavily-built youth 
of a slimmer one who had paused at the entrance 
to the arbor. 

“Hello, Kewpie! Oh, bully, so far. We took 
in eighty-four dollars this afternoon, and we dl 
do at least twice as well to-night. They ^re still 
coming. Have you seen Whipple anywhere F’ 

“Yes, a minute ago, down at the Pennsylvania 
booth. She ’s a mighty pretty girl, too. Nod. 
I bought a pocket-knife of her for a quarter, and 
got stung; but I donT mind. I ^m going back to 


156 


THE TURNER TWINS 


get another pretty soon. When do I have to 
sing again U’ 

‘‘You follow Wilson ^s clog-dance. We ’re 
switching you and Cheesman, Kewpie. His stuff 
is corking, but it ’s pretty high-brow, and we 
thought you ’d better bring up the end and make 
the audience feel cheerful.” 

“All right; but it won’t feel very cheerful if 
those orchestra guys don’t do better than they 
did this afternoon. They were four or five notes 
behind me once ! Nid said you had a new stunt 
this evening — something you left out this after- 
noon.” 

“Yes; we couldn’t work it in daylight very 
well. It ought to go fine to-night, though.” 

“What is it?” 

“You wait and see. I ’ve got to find Whipple. 
Say, if you see Ned, tell him I ’ll be at the plat- 
form in five minutes and want him to meet me 
there. Everybody keeps getting lost here ! ’ ’ 

On the way past the arbor, Laurie ran into 
George Watson, returning across lots balancing 
a couple of plates in one hand and holding a 
large slab of cake in the other, from which he 
nibbled as he went. “Hello!” he said, none too 
distinctly. “I ’ve been looking for you.” 

“Wanted to bring me refreshments, I sup- 
pose.” 

George looked at the empty plates, laughed, and 
shook his head. “Not exactly. I ’ve been feed- 


THE FETE 157 

ing Cornell. Somebody ought to take eats to 
those girls, Nod; they ^re starving 

‘‘All right; you do it.^’ 

“What do you think I am? A millionaire? I 
bought Mae a salad and an ice-cream, and I ’m 
about broke. Lend me a half, will you ? Thanks. 
Want an ice-cream? I dl treat. 

“No, thanks. Have you seen Dan Whipple?’^ 

‘ ‘ Sure ! He ^s over at the Pennsylvania booth, 
buying it out ! Say, everything ^s going great, 
isnT it? Could nT have had a finer evening, 
either, what ? Well, see you later. I ^m hungry ! ^ * 
And George continued his way to the house, where 
Miss Tabitha, surrounded by willing and hungry 
helpers, presided sternly, but most capably, over 
the refreshments. 

At eight o’clock the boy on duty at the en- 
trance estimated the attendance as close to two 
hundred, which, added to the eighty-six paid ad- 
missions before supper, brought the total close 
to the first estimate of three hundred. It is safe 
to say that every Hillman’s boy attended the fete 
either in the afternoon or evening, and that 
most of the faculty came and brought Mrs. 
Faculty- — ^when there was a Mrs. Faculty. Doc- 
tor Hillman was spied by Laurie purchasing a 
particularly useless and unlovely article in burnt 
wood from the auburn-haired Miss Hatch. Every 
one seemed to be having a good time, and the only 
fly in the ointment of the committee was the like- 


15a 


THE TURNER TWINS 


lihood that the refreshments would be exhausted 
far too soon. 

The Weather Man had kindly provided an eve- 
ning of exceptional warmth, with scarcely enough 
breeze to sway the paper lanterns that glowed 
from end to end of the old garden, an evening 
so warm that ice-cream was more in demand than 
sandwiches or salad; and fortunately so, since 
ice-cream was the one article of refreshment that 
could be and was replenished. If, said Ned, 
folks would stick to ice-cream and go light on 
the other refreshments, they might get through. 
To which Laurie agreed, and Ned hied him to the 
telephone and ordered another freezer sent up. 

At a few minutes after eight the Banjo and 
Mandolin Club took possession of the chairs be- 
hind the platform and dashed into a military 
march. Following that, six picked members of 
the Gymnastic Club did some very clever work, 
and Cheesman, a tall and rather soulful-looking 
upper middler, sang two ballads very well indeed, 
and then, as an encore, quite took the joy out 
of life with ‘ ^ Suwanee River ’ ^ I Little Miss Com- 
fort, present through the courtesy of the Commit- 
tee on Arrangements, sniffled quite audibly, but 
was heard to declare that 'Gt was just too sweet 
for anything A rather embarrassed junior at- 
tempted some card tricks that did n^t go very well, 
and then Wilson, garbed more or less in the 
character of an Irish gentleman returning from 


THE FETE 


159 


Donnybroak Fair, and swinging a shillaly, did 
some jig-dancing that was really clever and won 
much applause. 

There was a brief unofficial intermission while 
three anxious committee members made search 
for Kewpie Proudtree. He was presently dis- 
covered consuming his fourth plate of ice-cream 
in the seclusion of the side porch, and was haled 
away, protesting, to the platform. In spite of 
what may seem an over-indulgence in refresh- 
ment, Kewpie was in excellent voice and a jovial 
mood, and sang four rollicking songs in a man- 
ner that captured his audience. In fact, long 
after Kewpie had vanished from the public gaze 
and returned to his ice-cream, the audience still 
demanded more. 

Its attention was eventually captured, however, 
by Dan Whipple, who announced importantly that 
it gave him much pleasure to say that, at a great 
expense, the committee had secured as an added 
attraction the world-famed Signor Duodelli, who, 
with their kind permission, would exhibit for their 
pleasure and astoundment his miraculous act 
known as the Vanishing Man, as performed be- 
fore the crowned heads of Europe, to the bewil- 
derment and applause of all beholders. ‘^Ladies 
and gentlemen. Signor Duodelli 

The Signor had a noticeable likeness to Lew 
Cooper, in spite of his gorgeous mustache and 
flowing robe of red and purple cheese-cloth. 


160 


THE TURNER TWINS 


Yet it might not have been Lew, for his manner 
was extremely foreign and his gestures and the 
few words he used in directing the arranging of 
his properties'^ were unmistakably Latin. The 
properties consisted of a kitchen chair, a threefold 
screen covered with black baize, and a coil of rope. 
There was also in evidence a short wand, but the 
Signor held that in his hand, waving it around 
most eloquently. The audience laughed and ap- 
plauded and waited patiently until the chair 
had been placed exactly to the Signoras liking, 
close to the back of the platform, and the screen 
beside it. Previously several of the lights had 
been put out, and those that remained threw their 
glare on the front of the stage, leaving the back, 
while discernible, less in evidence. 

‘^Now,’^ announced the Signor, narrowly es- 
caping from falling otf the platform as he tripped 
over his robe, “I aska da some one coma up and 
giva da help. Any one I aska. You, Signor, 
maybe, ehU^ The magician pointed his wand 
at Mr. Cornish, in the front of the clustered 
audience; but the gentleman laughingly declined. 
The Signor seemed disappointed. ‘‘No-o-o? You 
no geta da hurt. Some one else, ehV^ He looked 
invitingly around, and a small junior, urged by 
his companions, struggled to the front. Unfor- 
tunately for his ambitions to pose in the lime- 
light, the Signoras glance had moved to another 
quarter, and, ere the junior could get his attention, 


THE FETE 


161 


a volunteer appeared from the semi-obscurity of 
the kitchen porch. He was peculiarly attired, 
wearing a simple white garment having a strong 
resemblance to the old-fashioned night-shirt, that 
covered him completely from neck to ankles. He 
was bareheaded, revealing the fact that his locks 
were red-brown in hue. 

‘‘Ah!’’ exclaimed the Signor, delightedly. 
“You will helpa me, sif Eight thisa way. Sig- 
nor. I thanka you!” 

“That ’s one of the Turner fellows,” muttered 
a boy, while the small junior and his companions 
called “Fake!” loudly. However, the good- 
natured laughter of the audience drowned the 
accusation, and some two hundred pairs of eyes 
watched amusedly and expectantly while, with the 
assistance of two other volunteers, the youth in 
the white robe was tied securely to the chair. 

“Maka him tight,” directed the Signor, en- 
thusiastically, waving his wand. “Pulla da knot. 
Ha, thata da way! Good! Signors, I thanka 
you ! ’ ’ 

The two who had tied the victim to the chair 
retired from the platform. The Signor seized the 
screen and opened it wide and turned it around 
and closed it and turned it again. 

“You seea ? ” he demanded. ‘ ‘ There is nothing 
that deceive! Now, then, I placea da screen so!” 
He folded it around the boy and the chair, leaving 
only the side away from the audience uncovered. 


162 


THE TUENER TWINS 


He drew away the width of the platform, and, 
‘‘Music, ifa you please, he requested. The or- 
chestra, whose members had moved their chairs 
to one side, struck up a merry tune, and the Sig- 
nor, folding his arms, bent a rapt gaze on the 
blank, impenetrable blackness of the screen. A 
brief moment passed. Then the Signor bade the 
music cease, took a step forward, and pointed to 
the screen. 

“Away ! he cried, and swung his arm in a half- 
circle, his body following with a weird flaring of 
his brilliant robes until, with outstretched finger, 
he faced the audience. “Ha! He come! Thisa 
way. Signor ! Cornea quick ! ^ ’ 

As one man the audience turfled and followed 
the pointing finger. Through the deserted arbor 
came a boy in a white garment. He pushed his 
way through the throng and jumped to the stage. 
As he did so, the Signor whisked aside the screen. 
There was the chair empty, and there was the 
rope dangling from it, twisted and knotted. 

A moment of surprised silence gave place to 
hearty applause. Theoretically it might have 
been possible for the boy in the chair to vanish 
from behind the screen, reach the farther end of 
the garden, and run back into sight ; but actually, 
as the audience realized on second thought, it 
could n^t possibly have been done in the few sec- 
onds, surely not more than ten, that had elapsed 
between the placing of the screen and the ap- 


THE FETE 


163 


pearance of the boy behind them. And then, 
how had he got himself free from the rope? An 
audience likes to be pnzzled, and this one surely 
was. The garden hummed with conjecture and 
discussion. There were some there who could 
have explained the seeming phenomenon, but 
they held their counsel. 

Meanwhile, on the platform the Signor was 
modestly bowing alternately to the audience and 
to his subject, the latter apparently no worse for 
his magic transposition. And the orchestra 
again broke into its interrupted melody. The 
applause became insistent, but Signor Duodelli, 
perhaps because his contract with the committee 
called for no further evidence of his powers, only 
bowed and bowed and at last disappeared into 
the obscurity of the shadows. Whereupon the 
Banjo and Mandolin Club moved into the house, 
and presently the strains of a one-step sum- 
moned the dancers to the big drawing-room. 

Laurie, unconsciously rubbing a wrist, smiled 
as he listened to the comments of the dissolving 
audience. ‘^Well, but there ’s no getting around 
the fact that it was the same boy,’’ declared a 
pompous little gentleman to his companion. 
‘^Same hair and eyes and everything! Couldn’t 
be two boys as much alike, eh? Not possibly! 
Very clever!” 

Laurie chuckled as he made his way to Polly’s 
booth. That young lady looked a little tired^ and, 


164 


THE TUENEH TWINS 


by the same token, so did the Yale booth! Only 
a bare dozen framed pictures and a small number 
of post-cards remained of her stock. ‘‘DonT you 
think I Ve done awfully wellT*’ asked Polly, a 
trifle pathetically. She seemed to need praise, 
and Laurie supplied it. 

Corking, Polly, he assured her. guess 
you Ve sold more than any of the others, have nT 
you ? ’ ’ 

‘^N-no, I guess some of the others have done 
better. Nod; but I think they had more attrac- 
tive articles, doiiT you? Anyhow, I Ve taken in 
twelve dollars and thirty cents since supper, and 
I made four dollars and eighty-five cents this af- 
ternoon; only I must have dropped a dime some- 
where, for I ’m ten cents short. Or perhaps 
some one did n T give me the right amount. ^ ^ 

“Why, that V seventeen dollars!’^ exclaimed 
Laurie. “I did n’t think you had anywhere near 
seventeen dollars’ worth of things here, Polly!’' 

“Oh, I did n’t! Not nearly! Why, if I ’d sold 
things at fhe prices marked on them. Nod, I 
would n’t have had more than half as much ! But 
lots of folks wanted to pay more, and I let them. 
Mr. Conklin, the jeweler, bought a picture, one 
of the funny landscapes with the frames that 
did n’t fit at the corners, and he said it was ridic- 
ulous to sell it for a quarter, and he gave me a 
dollar for it. Then he held the picture up and 
just laughed and laughed at it! I guess he just 


THE FETE 


165 


wanted to spend his money, don’t yon? You 
know, Ned said we were to get as much as we 
could for things, so I usually added ten cents to 
the price that was marked on them — sometimes 
more, if a person looked extravagant. One lady 
came back and said she ’d paid twenty-five cents 
for a picture and it was marked fifteen on the 
back. I said I was sorry she was dissatisfied 
and I ’d be very glad to buy it back from her for 
twenty.” 

Laurie laughed. ^^What did she say to that?^’ 
he asked. 

‘‘She said if I wanted it had enough to pay 
twenty cents for it she guessed it was worth 
twenty-five, and went off and didn’t come back.” 
Polly laughed and then sighed. “I ’m awfully 
tired. Doesn’t that Inusic sound lovely? Do 
you dance?” 

Laurie shook his head. “No; but, say, if you 
want to go in there, I ’ll watch the booth for 
you.” 

Polly hesitated. “It ’s funny you don’t,” she 
said. ‘ ‘ Don ’t you like it ? ” 

It was Laurie’s turn to hesitate. “No, not 
much. I never have danced. It — it seems sort 
of silly.” He looked at Polly doubtfully. Al- 
though he would n’t have acknowledged it, he was 
more than half sorry that dancing was not in- 
cluded among his accomplishments. 

“It isn’t silly at all,” asserted Polly, almost 


166 


THE TURNER TWINS 


indignantly. ‘^You ought to learn. Mae could 
teach you to one-step in no time at alll’^ 

guess that ’s about the way I ’d do it/’ an- 
swered Laurie, sadly — ‘‘in no time at all! Don’t 
you — couldn’t you teach a fellow?” 

“I don’t believe so. I never tried to teach any 
one. Besides, Mae dances lots better than I do. 
She put the things she had left on Grace Boswell ’s 
booth and went inside the minute the music 
started. She wanted me to come, but I thought 
I shouldn’t,” added Polly, virtuously. 

“You go ahead now,” urged Laurie. “I ’ll 
stay here till you come back. It isn’t fair for 
you girls to miss the dancing. Besides, I guess 
there won’t be much more sold now. Folks have 
begun to go, some of them, and most of the others 
are inside.” 

Polly looked toward the house. Through the 
big wide-open windows the lilting music of a waltz 
floated out. The Banjo and Mandolin Club was 
really doing very well to-night. Polly sighed once 
and looked wistful. Then she shook her head. 
“Thanks, Nod,” she said, “but I guess I ’ll stay 
here. Some one might come.” 

“What do you care? You don’t own ’em! 
Anyway, I guess I could sell a post-card if I had 
to!” 

“You ’d have trouble selling any of those pic- 
tures,” laughed Polly. “Aren’t they dreadful? 
Where did they come from?” 


THE FETE 


167 


‘‘Pretty fierce/^ Laurie agreed. “They came 
from the Metropolitan Furniture Store. The 
man dug them out of a corner in the cellar. I 
guess he ^d had them for years! Anyway, there 
was enough dust on them to choke you. He 
seemed awfully tickled when we agreed to take 
them and let him alone 1’^ 

“I should think he might have! We girls 
agreed to buy things from each other, just to help, 
but the only things they bought from me were 
post-cards!^’ Polly laughed as though at some 
thought; and Laurie, who had elevated himself 
to an empty corner of the booth and was swing- 
ing his feet against the blue draping in front, 
looked inquiringly. “I was just thinking about 
the boys,” explained Polly. 

“What about them? What boys do you 
mean?” Laurie asked coldly. 

“The high school boys. They ’re awfully 
peeved because we girls took part in this, and not 
one of them has been here, I guess.” 

“Cheeky beggars,” grumbled Laurie. “Guess 
we can do without them, though. Here comes 
Bob’s father.” 

Mr. Starling was bent on a most peculiar mis- 
sion. Laurie and Polly watched him stop at the 
next booth and engage in conversation. Then a 
fat pocket-book was produced, a bill was tendered, 
and Mr. Starling strolled on. At the Yale booth 
he stopped again. 


168 


THE TURNEE TWINS 


‘‘Well, Turner,” he greeted, “this affair looks 
like a huge success, does n’t it? Why are n’t you 
young folks inside there, dancing?” 

“I don’t dance, sir,” answered Laurie, some- 
what to his chagrin in a most apologetic tone. 
“And Polly thinks she ought to stand by the ship. 
This is Polly Deane, Mr. Starling.” 

Bob’s father shook hands cordially across the 
depleted counter and assured its proprietor that 
he was very glad indeed to make her acquaint- 
ance. Then he added: “But you don’t seem to 
have much left. Miss Polly. Now, I ’m a great 
hand at a bargain. I dare say that if you made 
me a fair price for what there is here I ’d jump 
at it. What do you say?” 

Polly apparently didn’t know just what to say 
for a minute, and her gaze sought counsel of 
Laurie. 

“If you ask me,” laughed the latter, “I ’d say 
fifty cents was a big price for the lot!” 

“You ’re not in charge,” said Mr. Starling, al- 
most severely. “I ’m sure the young lady has 
better business ability. Suppose you name a 
price. Miss Polly.” 

“We-ell — ” Polly did some mental arithme- 
tic, and then, doubtfully: “A dollar and a half, 
sir,” she said. 

“Done!” replied Mr. Starling. He drew forth 
a two-dollar bill. “There you are! Just leave 
the things where they are. I ’ll look after them 


THE FETE 


169 


later. Now you youngsters go in and dance. 
What ’s this? Change? My dear young lady, 
donT you know that change is never given at an 
affair of this kind? I really could nT think of 
taking it. It — it ’s a criminal offense!’^ And 
Mr. Starling nodded and walked away. 

‘‘By Jove, he’s a brick!” exclaimed Laurie, 
warmly. “Look, he ’s doing the same thing 
everywhere !” 

“I know,” answered Polly, watching. “It ’s 
just dear of him, isn’t it? But, Nod, what do 
you suppose he will do with these awful pic 
turesf ” 

“The same thing he will do with that truck 
he ’s buying now,” was the laughing reply. “He 
will probably put them in the furnace 1 ’ ’ 

“Well,” said Polly, after a moment, “I sup- 
pose we might as well go inside, don’t you? We 
can look on, anyway, and” — ^with a stifled 
sigh — “I ’d ’most as lief look on as dance.” 

Laurie followed, for the second time in his life 
wishing that the Terpsichorean art had been in 
eluded in his education! 


CHAPTER XV 


NED HAS AN IDEA 

<<r|lHREE hundred and thirty-three dollars and 
eighty-five cents/’ said Ned, in very satisfied 
tones. ‘‘We took in three hundred and sixty- 
three five, but we had twenty-nine twenty to come 
out for expenses. Not so bad, what?” 

“But something tells me,” answered Laurie, 
mournfully, “that if all our expenses were de- 
ducted we ’d have less than that. You see,” he 
explained to Polly, “I lost the piece of paper that 
I set down the money I paid out on, and I just 
had to guess what it all came to, because I ’d 
never had time to add it up.” 

“I dare say you guessed enough,” replied Ned, 
untroubled. 

“I dare say I didn’t, then!” was the indignant 
response. “If I did, where ’s all the money I 
had when I started ? I ’ve got a dollar and ninety 
cents left, and I had over four dollars when you 
roped me in on the thing ! I ’m more than two 
dollars shy, I tell you I ’ ’ 

“Oh, well, it ’s gone for a worthy cause,” 
laughed Ned. 

“Maybe,” Laurie grumbled, “but I notice that 
170 


NED HAS AN IDEA 171 

none of yours has gone that way. You always 
made me pay for everything ! ^ ^ 

‘^Well, I think you did it beautifully,’’ said 
Polly. ‘ ‘ I never suspected you ’d make so much ! ’ ’ 

They were in the little garden behind the shop. 
It was the second day after the fete, and the bell 
in the Congregational church tower had just 
struck two. There was a perceptible nip in the 
air to-day, and the flowers in the border showed 
blackened leaves, while the nasturtiums were 
frankly limp and lifeless. But here in the sun- 
shine it was warm enough, and Laurie, spurning 
the bench, was seated tailor fashion on the yel- 
lowing turf. Polly had stated her absolute certi- 
tude that he would catch cold, but Laurie derided 
the idea. 

‘‘We ’re awfully much obliged to you girls,” 
said Ned. “We wouldn’t have done nearly so 
well if you had n’t helped. I think the committee 
ought to give you a — a vote of thanks or some- 
thing.” 

“Oh, we all loved it!” Polly assured him 
earnestly. “We had heaps of fun. Why, I 
would n’t have missed that disappearing trick for 
anything. I was positively thrilled when Laurie 
came running up the garden!” 

The boys’ laughter interrupted, and Polly 
looked puzzled. 

“That wasn’t Laurie,” explained Ned. 
“That was me.” 


172 


THE TUKNER TWINS 


“But I was sure you were the one in the 
chair! And if you were in the chair, how could 
you — 

“I wasnT, though. That was Laurie.^’ 

Polly sighed despairingly. “I ^11 never get so 
I can tell you apart, she said; “unless I hear 
you talk, that is! I don’t see yet how it was 
done. Won’t you please tell me?” 

“It was as easy as easy,” replied Ned. “You 
see, the way I planned it first — ” 

“The way who planned it?” inquired Laurie. 

“Well, the way we planned it, then.” 

“Hold on! Whose idea was it in the first 
place, partner?” 

^ * Oh, don ’t be so fussy ! Anyway, you could n ’t 
have done it without me!” 

“I never said I could. But you ’ve got a lot of 
cheek to talk about the way you — ” 

Polly clapped her hands to her ears. “I ’m not 
being told how it was done, and I do want to 
know. Go on, Ned.” 

“Well, it was done like this. You see, Laurie 
was tied to the chair, and I was hiding out at the 
other end of the garden. Then Lew Cooper put 
the screen around the chair.” Polly nodded. 
“Then I started toward the platform, and every 
one turned to look at me.” Polly nodded again. 
“Well, right behind the platform was the bulk- 
head door into the cellar. When Cooper shouted 
to me to come on, two fellows who were on the 


NED HAS AN IDEA 


173 


stairs waiting pushed the door open, grabbed 
Laurie, chair and all, and whisked him down cel- 
lar. Then they put another chair, just like the 
first one, behind the screen, and when Cooper 
pulled the screen away, there it was, just as if 
Laurie had somehow untied himself and — and 
vanished I Of course, if any one had been look- 
ing at the screen instead of at me just then, he 
might have seen what was going on, although it 
was pretty dark behind there and he mightn’t 
have. Anyway, no one was, I guess. The trick 
depended on the — the faint similarity between us. 
.Lots of fellows who knew us were on to it, but the 
folks from the village were puzzled for fair I” 

‘Hndeed they were,” agreed Polly. ^‘They 
just couldn’t understand it at all!” 

‘‘It would have been better,” mused Laurie, 
“if we could have taken the screen away and 
showed the empty chair before Ned came into 
sight; but there didn’t seem to be any way of 
doing that. We had to have the people looking 
the other way, and we had to work quick. As it 
was, I was half killed, for Wainwright and Plum- 
mer were in such a hurry to get the other chair 
up there that they just dumped me on my back! 
And then they ran upstairs through the kitchen 
to see the end of it, and I was kicking around 
down there for five minutes!” 

“Well,’^ said Ned, a few minutes later, “I ’m 
not finding out what to do with this.” He opened 


174 


THE TURNER TWINS 


one hand and exposed some bills and two ten- 
cent pieces folded into a wad. ‘‘Your mother 
says she wonT take it, Polly — that she did n’t un- 
derstand we were going to pay her for the cream- 
puifs. Gee, we wouldn’t have thought of asking 
her to make them for nothing!” 

Polly nodded sympathetically. “Mother says, 
though, that the boys bring so much trade to her 
that it ’s only fair for her to help them.” 

“That ’s poppy-cock!” said Laurie. “Seven 
dollars and twenty cents is a lot of money. Look 
here; don’t you think she ought to take it, Polly U’ 

Polly was silent a moment. Then she nodded 
affirmatively. “Yes, I do,” she said frankly. 
“She really needs the money, Ned. I wouldn’t 
tell any one else, but we ’re just frightfully hard 
up, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Mother 
had to give up here before very long.” 

“Give up!” exclaimed Ned. “You mean — go 
away?” 

“Yes. You see, she doesn’t make very much 
money in the store ; nothing like she used to before 
the war sent prices so high. And then, what with 
taxes and water and light, and the interest on the 
mortgage, why, it hardly pays. Just the same, 
if she says she won’t take the money, Ned, why, 
I guess she won’t, and that ’s all there is to it. 
But she ought to!” 

“Can’t she charge more for things?” asked 
Laurie. “Everyone else does nowadays. That 


NED HAS AN IDEA 


175 


bake-shop down on Hudson Street gets eight 
cents for cream-puffs and eclairs, and you sell 
them for six/^ 

‘H know; but Mama says six cents is enough 
and that the boys oughtn’t to have to pay any 
more. And lots of things she sells for hardly any 
more than she used to before prices advanced. 
Why, I have to watch all the time ; and when bills 
come in for things, I have to compare them with 
what we ’re getting for them, and lots of times 
I find that Mama ’s been selling for less than 
what she ’s paid! She just won’t be a profiteer, 
she says!” 

‘‘Gee! I hope you don’t have to shut up,” 
said Laurie. He looked around the little garden. 
“It' — it ’s such a jolly place! And the house and 
everything. Gee, that would he a shame!” 

Polly sighed while she nodded. “It is nice,” 
she agreed; “but there are so many things that 
ought to be done! Uncle Peter never would do 
much for us. He did promise to have the house 
painted, but he died about a month after that, 
and so it was never done.” 

“Suppose he up and died so ’s he wouldn’t 
have to do it?” inquired Laurie, suspiciously. 

Polly shook her head and looked a trifle shocked, 
until she caught the smile in Ned’s eyes. 

“It does n’t look as if it would cost much money 
to paint it,” remarked Ned, looking up at the 
rear of the little two-and>a-half-story building. 


176 


THE TURNER TWINS 


‘Ht not much more than a dolPs house, anyway. 
How many rooms are there, Polly T’ 

‘‘Three upstairs, and then a sort of attic room 
under the roof; and two downstairs.’^ 

“Uh-huh. I just wondered. It wouldn’t be 
much of a trick to paint the outside. Bet you I 
could do it in a couple of days.” 

Laurie gasped. “A couple of days! You? 
How do you get like that? It would take a real 
painter a week to do it!” 

“Maybe; hut I ’m not a real painter,” answered 
Ned, grinning. He glanced at the crumpled wad 
in his hand and held it tentatively toward Polly. 
“Maybe you ’d better take charge of this, Polly, 
until we decide what to do with it.” 

But Polly put her hands resolutely behind her, 
and shook her head with decision. “No, Ned, I ’d 
rather not. If Mama says she won’t have it, she 
won’t, and you might just as well give it back to 
the— the fund.” 

Somewhat to Laurie’s surprise, Ned pocketed 
the money without further protest. “All right,” 
he said. “It ’s very kind of your mother. We 
mustn’t forget to see that her name ’s included 
in the list of those who donated things, Laurie. 
This week’s ‘Messenger’ is going to tell all about 
it. Well, I ’ve got to pull my freight. You com- 
ing, partner?” 

“Yes, I guess so,” replied Laurie, without 
much enthusiasm. “I promised Bob and George 


NED HAS AN IDEA 177 

to get another fellow and play some tennis this 
afternoon. 

‘‘Gee! it must be great to have nothing to do 
but play,^^ sighed his brother. 

“Huh, any one would think, to hear you talk, 
that you were working,’^ replied Laurie, crush- 
ingly. “All you do is stand around and watch 
the others.’^ 

“Think soV’ Ned smiled in a superior way. 
“You come down this afternoon and see how 
much standing around I do. Joe Stevenson says 
I Ve got to practise goals now. Is nT that the 
limit!’' 

“I suppose it pains him to see you loafing," 
said Laurie. “Anyway, I dare say it ’ll keep you 
out of mischief.’’ 

Laurie led the way to the back fence, against 
which leaned a plank with two pieces of wood 
nailed across it. This afforded a short cut to 
and from school, and was an idea of Bob’s. From 
the top of the fence they dropped into the 
shrubbery and then made their way to the side 
gate. 

The arbor had not yet been denuded of its ever- 
green clothing, and there were other evidences of 
the recent festival in the shape of crumpled pa- 
per napkins lying on the ground. Thomas had 
taken down the lanterns and was packing them 
away in their case by the kitchen porch, and 
the boys called a greeting to him as they 
passed. 


178 


THE TURNER TWINS 


‘‘Bob still mean to make a tennis-court hereU^ 
asked Ned, as they went through the gate. 

“Yes. He ’s going to tear down that arbor 
right away, he says. So far, though, he hasnT 
found any one to do the work on the court. 
Everyone is busy. I donT believe he will get it 
done in time to use it this fall.^’ 

“Of course he won’t. It ’s nearly November 
now. Say, you ’d better take this money and 
hand it over to Whipple. You ’ll see him before 
I do. And tell him to put Mrs. Deane’s name 
down with the other folks who contributed, will 
you?” 

“All right; but I think it ’s a shame to let her 
stand for all those cakes.” 

“So do I; only — ” 

“Only what?” 

“Maybe we can make it up to her another way. 
I \e got an idea, Laurie.” 

“I hope it ’s better than most of ’em. What is 
it?” 

And when Ned had explained it, Laurie con- 
sidered a long moment and then indorsed it en- 
thusiastically. “That ’s corking!” he cried. 
“For once, Ned, the old bean has worked! Only, 
when could we — ” 

“Christmas vacation,” said Ned. “We won’t 
have much to do then. What do you say?” 

“I say that, for the first time in my life, Ned- 
die, I ’m proud to acknowledge you as my twin ! ’ ^ 


CmPTER XVI 


POLLY TELLS A SPOOK STOEY 

A SSUEED of sufficient funds to complete its 
season without financial embarrassment, the 
Hillman’s football team seemed to take a new and 
firmer grip on things. Practice went well that 
week, and the players showed vim and snap. 
Perhaps the colder weather helped, too. The 
line-up that faced the scrubs on Friday for a 
short scrimmage was, barring accidents, that 
which would, four weeks later, start the game 
against Hillman’s old rival, Farview Academy. 
Farley and White were at the ends. Captain 
Stevenson and Pringle were the tackles, Emerson 
and Corson were the guards, and Kewpie Proud- 
tree was at center. Frank Brattle at quarter, 
Mason and Slavin for halves, and Pope at full- 
back composed the rest of the team. There were 
some weak places, to be sure; but, on the whole, 
Coach Mulford was fairly satisfied that he had 
the parts for a capable machine. 

Ned was still playing on the scrub eleven, and 
doing rather well. As a punter, at least, he de- 
served his position at left half, and it might be 
that he would develop into a fair goal-kicker ; for 
179 


180 


THE TURNER TWINS 


in the last four days, under the tuition of the 
coach and full-back Pope, he had shown excel- 
lent promise. Those morning lessons, now aban- 
doned, had grounded Ned well in the art of toeing 
the pigskin, and, whatever fame the future might 
hold for him as punter or drop-kicker or place- 
kicker, much of the credit would be Kewpie^s. 

To-day, in the second ten minutes of the scrim- 
maging, — there was but twenty minutes in all, — 
Thursby, playing quarter, and probably acting 
under instructions, gave Ned his first chance to 
show what he could do in the way of field goals. 
Unable to reach a point nearer than twenty yards 
to the school team^s goal, Thursby called for 
‘‘kick formation, Turner back,’^ and Ned went 
up-field with his heart in his mouth. Although 
the cross-bar was less than thirty yards from 
where he took his stand and almost directly in 
front of him, it looked to Ned to be a woeful dis- 
tance away and the angle much more severe than 
it was. But he didn’t have much time for re- 
flection, for Thursby called his signal quickly, 
and the leather came back to him at a good pass, 
and the school team was crashing through. 

Ned always thought that he closed his eyes 
when he swung his toe against the rebounding ball 
and trusted to luck, but I doubt it, for the pigskin 
described a perfect arc and went well and true 
over the bar, and if Ned had had his eyes closed 
I don’t believe the pigskin would have acted that 


POLLY TELLS A SPOOK STORY 181 


way at all. Most of the scrub team players 
thumped him on the back and showed their de- 
light in other ways, for they had not scored on the 
school team for nearly a week; while, at a little 
distance. Coach Mulford nodded his head almost 
imperceptibly. It was too bad Ned didn’t see 
that nod, for it would have pleased him far more 
than the buffets of his team-mates. 

The next day Hillman’s made a trip to Warring 
and played the Lansing team to a standstill, re- 
turning with a 22 — 0 victory tucked under its belt. 
Ned got into the game for a bare five minutes at 
the last, as did half a dozen other substitutes ; but 
he was not called on to kick any goals, for which 
he was at once sorry and glad. To have had the 
eyes of nearly a thousand persons on him would, 
he thought, have precluded any possibility of suc- 
cess; but, on the other hand, had he succeeded — 
He sighed for lost opportunities ! 

The attendance that afternoon was a matter of 
great joy to Manager Dave Murray, for Hillman’s 
went home with a neat sum as its share of the 
day’s profits, a sum far larger than he had 
counted on — large enough, in fact, to make up the 
difference between the net receipts from the fete 
and the three hundred and fifty dollars aimed at. 

Hillman’s good fortune held for another week. 
There were no accidents during practice; every 
fellow in the line-up played for all that was in 
him; and the scrubs took a licking every after- 


182 


THE TURNEE TWINS 


noon. Ned twice more gained glory as a drop- 
kicker, although on a third occasion he failed 
lamentably. Unfortunately, neither of his suc- 
cesses brought victory to his team, since the op- 
ponents had on each occasion a safe lead in the 
scoring. Every afternoon, following the scrim- 
mage, Ned was presented by the coach with a nice 
battle-scarred football, and instructed to go down 
to the east goal and ‘‘put some over.’^ Some- 
times Hop Kendrick or Ben Thursby went with 
him to hold the ball while he tried placement- 
kicks, and always an unhappy substitute was 
delegated to retrieve the pigskin for him ; but the 
coach let him pretty much alone, and Pope looked 
on only occasionally and was surprisingly sparing 
of comment or advice. And yet, Ned improved, 
rather to his surprise, since he felt himself neg- 
lected and, as he said to Laurie, didnT see how 
they expected a fellow to learn goal-kicking if 
they did n T show him a little ! But, although he 
didnT realize it, Ned had reached a point in his 
development where he was best left to his own 
devices, and Coach Mulford knew it and forbore 
to risk confusing him with unnecessary instruc- 
tion. So Ned pegged away doggedly, and got re- 
sults, as he considered, in spite of the coach! 

Against the Queens Preparatory Institute, 
which journeyed up from the city on Saturday, 
the Blue was able to emerge from four grueling 
fifteen-minute periods with the score 6 — 6, from 


POLLY TELLS A SPOOK STORY 183 

the Bluets standpoint a very satisfactory show- 
ing, for Q. P. I. was a much-heralded team and 
had downed stronger elevens than Hillman ^s. 
So November began its second week, and cloudy 
days and not infrequently rainy ones took the 
place of the sunny weather of October. 

Laurie would have been somewhat at a loss for 
a way in which to spend his afternoons at that 
time, had it not been for Bob Starling’s over- 
mastering desire to build a tennis-court in the 
garden of the Coventry place. The weather was 
far too cold for tennis, although now and then he 
and Bob played George and Lee Murdock, and 
the wrecking of the old grape-arbor, preparatory 
to digging up the sod, proved a welcome diver- 
sion. Sometimes Thomas took a hand ; but 
Thomas had plenty to do indoors, and the work 
was accomplished almost wholly by Bob and 
Laurie, with the occasional moral support of 
George or Lee. 

Usually an hour’s labor with hammer or crow- 
bar ended with an adjournment to the Widow 
Deane’s, by way of the back fence, for refresh- 
ments. Sometimes it was warm enough to fore- 
gather in the little garden behind the shop and, 
armed with cream-puffs or tarts, spend a jolly 
half-hour in the society of Polly and Mae. At 
such times Mrs. Deane, hearing the shouts and 
laughter, came to the back door and smiled in 
sympathy. 


184 


THE TUENER TWINS 


One glorious afternoon of mingled sunlight and 
frost there was an excursion afoot out into the 
country in search of nuts. Polly and Mae and 
Laurie and George and Bob and Lee formed the 
party. They carried two baskets, one of which 
George wore on his head most of the way, to the 
wonderment of the infrequent passers. Mae 
knew, or thought she knew, where there were 
chestnut trees, and led the way for three miles 
to what is called Two Jug Ridge. The chestnut 
trees, however, were, according to Laurie, away 
for the afternoon. They found some hickory- 
nuts, not quite ready to leave their husks, and a 
few beech-nuts, and after gathering those they 
sat on a broad, flat boulder and looked down on 
Orstead and Little Windsor and some twelve 
miles of the Hudson River, and talked a good deal 
of nonsense — all except Lee, who went to sleep 
with his cap pulled over his eyes, and had a cold 
in his head for days after. George decided that 
when he was through college and was married, 
he would come back there and build a bungalow 
just where they were seated. 

^‘This will do for the front door-step,” he ex- 
pounded, ‘‘and over there will be a closed-in 
porch with an open fireplace and a Gloucester 
hammock.” 

“That all you ’re going to have?” asked Bob. 
“No kitchen?” 

“Oh, there ’ll be a kitchen, all right, and a din- 


POLLY TELLS A SPOOK STOEY 185 

ing-room — ^no, I guess we ^11 eat on the porch. 
Would n^t it be a dandy place, though? Look at 
the view!^^ 

‘‘Fine,’^ said Laurie, without much enthusiasm, 
remembering the last uphill mile. ‘‘Don^t mind 
if i don’t come to see you often, though, do 
you?” 

‘‘Not a bit! Nobody asked you, anyway.” 

“You could live on nuts,” murmured Polly, 
“and could have shaggy-barks for breakfast and 
beech-nuts for dinner and — ” 

“Grape-nuts for supper,” said Laurie, coming 
to the rescue. 

“And you could call the place the Squirrel- 
Cage,” suggested Bob. 

And that reminded Mae of a story her father 
had told of a man who had lived in the woods 
farther down the river some years before, and 
who ate nothing but nuts and things he found in 
the forest. “He lived all alone in a little cabin 
he ’d built, and folks said he was a deserter from 
the army, and — ” 

“What army?” George asked. 

“The Northern Army, of course.” 

“I thought you might mean the Salvation 
Army. Then this was quite awhile ago, wasn’t 
it?” 

“Of course, stupid! Years and years ago. 
And finally, when he died, folks found that he 
was n’t a deserter at all, but a general or a major 


186 


THE TUENER TWINS 


or something, and they found a prize that the 
government had given him, some sort of- a medal 
for bravery in battle. WasnT that sadT’ 

‘‘Well,’^ replied Laurie, doubtfully, sup- 
pose it was. I suppose the government would 
have shown better judgment if they ’d given him 
a hag of nuts. Of course, he could nT eat that 
medal ! ^ ^ 

‘Wou ^re horrid! Anyway, it just shows that 
you mustnT judge folks by — by outward ap- 
pearances, doesn’t it!” 

‘^Rather! I Ve always said that, too. Take 
George, for example. Just to look at him, you ’d 
never think he had any sense at all; but at 
times — ” 

‘‘Lay off of George,” interrupted that young 
gentleman, threateningly. “If folks judged you 
by the way you talk, you ’d be inside a nice high 
wall!” 

Why the talk should have drifted from there to 
the subject of ghosts and uncanny happenings 
is n ’t apparent, but it did. In the midst of it, 
Lee gave a tremendous snore that scared both 
the girls horribly, and sat up suddenly, blinking. 
“Hello!” he muttered. Then he yawned and 
grinned foolishly. “Guess I must have dropped 
otf,” he said apologetically. 

“You didn’t,” said George. “If you had 
you ’d have waked up quicker! Cut out the 
chatter; Polly ’s telling a spook yarn.” 


POLLY TELLS A SPOOK STORY 187 


Lee gathered up a handful of beech-nuts and 
was silent except for the sound he made in crack- 
ing the shells. 

‘^It isnT much of a story/ ^ disclaimed Polly, 
^‘but it — it was funny. It began just after Mama 
and I came here. I mean, that was the first time. 
One night, after we had gone to bed. Mama 
called me. ‘I think there ’s some one down- 
stairs, Polly,’ she whispered. We both listened, 
and, sure enough, we could hear a sort of tapping 
sound. It wasn’t like footsteps, exactly; more 
— more hollow, as if it came from a long way off. 
But it sounded right underneath. We listened 
a minute or two, and then it stopped and didn’t 
begin again; and presently we lighted a candle 
and went downstairs, and nobody was there and 
everything was quite all right. So we thought 
that perhaps what we ’d heard was some one 
walking along the street. 

‘‘We didn’t hear it again for nearly two 
weeks, and then it lasted longer — maybe two 
minutes. It got louder, and stopped, and began 
again, and died away; and we sat there and lis- 
tened, and I thought of ghosts and everything ex- 
cept robbers, because it did n’t sound like any one 
in the store. It was more as if it was some one 
in the cellar. ’ ’ 

“Well, maybe it was,” suggested Laurie, when 
Polly paused. 

“That ’s what we thought. Nod, until we went 


188 


THE TURNEE TWINS 


to see. Then we remembered that there wasnT 
any cellar!^’ 

said Laurie. 

‘‘What happened thenf^’ asked Lee, flicking a 
shell at George. 

“It kept on happening every little while for 
two years. We got so we didn’t think any more 
about it. Mr. Farmer, the lawyer, said what we 
heard was probably a rat. But I know very well 
it wasn’t that. It was too regular. It was al- 
ways just the same each time. At first we could 
just hear it a little, and then it grew louder and 
louder, and stopped. And then it began again, 
loud, and just sort of — of trailed off till you 
couldn’t hear it at all.. I suppose we never 
would have heard it if it hadn’t been for Mama 
not sleeping very well, because it always came 
after midnight, usually about half-past twelve. 
After a while I didn’t hear it at all, because 
Mama stopped waking me up.” 

“Spooks,” declared George, with unction. 
‘ ‘ The house is haunted, Polly. ’ ’ 

“Wish I lived there,” said Bob eagerly. “I ’m 
crazy about ghosts. They told me that old Coven 
— I mean your uncle, Polly — haunted the house 
we ’re in ; but, gee ! I ’ve been around at all times 
of night and never seen a thing! There are lots 
of jolly, shivery noises — stairs creaking, and 
woodwork popping, and all that, you know; but 
nary a ghost, Look here, Polly! Let me sit 


POLLY TELLS A SPOOK STOEY 189 

down in the store some night, will you? I ’d love 
to!’’ 

^^You ’ve got funny ideas of fun,” murmured 
George. 

‘‘Oh, but it ’s gone now,” said Mae. “Hasn’t 
it, Polly? You have n’t heard the noise for a long 
time, have you?” 

“No, not for — oh, two years, I think. At least, 
that ’s what Mama says. Maybe, though, she 
sleeps better and doesn’t hear things.” 

“I guess Mr. What ’s-his-name was right,” said 
Lee. ‘ ‘ It was probably a rat, or a family of rats. ’ ’ 

“Rats wouldn’t make the same sound every 
time,” scoffed Laurie. 

“They might. Trained rats might. Maybe 
they escaped from a circus.” 

“And maybe you escaped from an asylum,” re- 
sponded Laurie, getting up. “Let ’s take him 
home before he gets violent.” 


CHAPTER XVn 


LAURIE MAKES A PROTEST 

T he football team continued to add victories, 
and as the fateful 20th of November ap- 
proached enthusiasm grew until, after the Whit- 
tier game, which Hillman’s won by a field goal 
in the final hectic two minutes, it became more 
a furore than enthusiasm. Ned, by that time, 
had settled down to a realization that, no matter 
what progress he made this fall, no matter how 
adept he became at kicking a football down the 
field or over the cross-bar, he would not make 
the first team; that, in short, he was being edu- 
cated as next year material. There was no in- 
justice in this, and he realized it ; for, aside from 
his proficiency as a kicker, he was not in the class 
with the school team backs. He couldn’t worm 
his way through a hole in the opposing line the 
way Slavin could, nor smash through the defense 
the way Mason did, nor dodge and side-step in 
a broken field like Pope. Once going, Ned was 
rather hard to stop, for he displayed some of 
the slippery qualities of an eel; but it took him 
ten yards to get his speed up, and the opponents 
had a discouraging way of getting through and 
190 


LAUEIE MAKES A PEOTEST 191 

flooring him before the tenth yard was won! 
But he had grown to love the game, and no one 
toiled more conscientiously. There were times 
when Laurie devoutly wished that Ned hadnT 
taken up the game, for after a half-hour of Ned^s 
chatter Laurie found the subject of football a 
trifle dull. 

On the Wednesday before the Farview con- 
test the Orstead High School team came over 
for a practice game. At least, Hillman’s called 
it a practice game and considered it such; but 
High School had blood in her eye and was se- 
cretly determined to wreak all the vengeance pos- 
sible. Once a year, for the space of some three 
hours, Orstead High School swore allegiance to 
Hillman’s and turned out at the field and rooted 
valiantly for the Blue while she battled with 
Farview. But all the rest of the time she was 
frankly hostile and derisive. This Wednesday 
afternoon the hostility was apparent from the 
first. More than a hundred boys and a scatter- 
ing of girls followed their team to the Hillman’s 
field and demanded revenge for the early-season 
defeat, while the High School team, which had 
passed through a rather successful season and 
was not at all the aggregation that the Blue had 
beaten 10 to 7, started right out after it. 

Coach Mulford began with his first-string 
players, and against them High School was not 
dangerous, although there were anxious mo- 


192 


THE TURNER TWINS 


ments. The second period ended with the score 
7 — 0 in Hillman’s favor, only a fumble by Slavin 
on High School’s eight yards saving the visitor 
from a second touch-down. When the third 
quarter began, Coach Mulford put in nearly a 
new eleven, only Kewpie Proudtree, Farley, Ma- 
son, and Pope remaining over. Perhaps the 
High School coach had talked new strength and 
determination into his charges during the inter- 
mission, for the visitors started in on the second 
half in whirlwind fashion. The Blue kicked off, 
and High School’s quarter got the ball on his 
twenty-five-yard line and scampered back to the 
thirty-five before he was laid low by Farley, the 
Blue’s left end. From there, with fierce slams 
at Hillman’s right and two short forward passes 
over the center of the line. High School reached 
the opponent’s thirty-two. There an off-side 
penalty set her back, and, after two attempts at 
rushing that produced but three yards, she kicked 
to the five-yard line. Kendrick fumbled the 
catch, but recovered and was downed on his ten. 
Pope punted on second down to mid-field, and from 
there High School started another slashing ad- 
vance that took her to the thirty-four yards be- 
fore she was halted. 

On the side-lines, the High School supporters 
were shouting and beseeching and banners were 
waving deliriously. A tow-haired full-back, who 
had aU along proved the visitor’s best ground- 


LAURIE MAKES A PROTEST 193 


gainer, smashed through the Hillman’s left for 
two yards; and then, on fourth down, faking a 
kick, he set otf on a romp around the adversary’s 
right. Lightner, the second-string end, was ef- 
fectually boxed, and the runner, turning wide, 
was off down the field at top speed. Only Hop 
Kendrick stood between him and the goal-line, 
and Hop waited on the fifteen yards, wary and 
alert. The tow-haired boy’s feint to the right 
didn’t fool him, and when the side-stepping to 
the left began. Hop was on him with a clean dive 
and a hard taekle, and the two rolled to earth to- 
gether. But the ball was on the thirteen yards 
now, and it was first down for High School, and 
the latter was not to be denied. A plunge off 
tackle took the pigskin in front of the goal, though 
there was no gain. Hillman’s piled up an at- 
tack at right guard. On third down. High 
School called for kick formation, and the tow- 
haired terror dropped back. 

From the side of the gridiron, Hillman’s 
rooters chanted: Block that kick! Block that 
kick!” But there was no kick to block, for the 
full-back only backed away a pace or two when 
the pigskin reached him, and then tossed to the 
comer of the field and to the eager hands of 
an uncovered right end who had but to make 
three strides before he was over the line. Hop 
got him then; but the damage was done, and 
the visitors lining the gridiron were cheering and 


194 


THE TURNER TWINS 


cavorting wildly. The kick was from a difficult 
angle, but the tow-haired player made it, and 
the score was tied. 

The teams changed fields a minute later. Un- 
dismayed, Coach Mulford sent in three new sub- 
* stitutes, one of them in place of Pope. Hillman ^s 
got the ball in mid-field on a fumble, and set off 
for the adversary’s goal; but the new players 
were not able to make much headway, and Deer- 
ing, who had taken Pope’s place, punted. The 
effort landed the ball on High School’s thirty- 
seven, and her quarter ran it back eight more 
before he was stopped. Three tries at the line 
netted seven yards, and the visitor punted to 
Hop Kendrick on his eighteen. This time Hop 
hugged the ball hard and set off along the far 
side of the gridiron at a smart pace. Fortu- 
nately for him, one High School end overran. 
The other challenged, but missed his tackle. By 
that time a hasty interference had formed, and, 
guarded by Mason and Lightner, Hop reached 
his forty before misfortune overtook him. There 
a High School tackle crashed through the inter- 
ference and nailed him hard. 

But that twenty-yard sprint had brought new 
vim to the Blue’s novices, and new confidence, 
and from their forty yards they began a fast, hard 
attack that placed High School with her back 
to the wall almost before she realized it. If the 
substitutes lacked the experience and brawn of 


LAUEIE MAKES A PEOTEST 195 

the first-choice players, they at least had sand 
and speed. And they had a qnarter-back who 
was earnest and grim and determined, and who, 
sensing that the opponent was weary, realized 
that speed, and a lot of it, was the one thing that 
could save the day. And so Hop proved his right 
to his nickname that afternoon. Hop he did, 
and so did his team. Signals were fairly shot 
into the air, and there was no longer any time 
between plays for High School to recover her 
breath. Twice, with plunges at the right of the 
visitor's line and runs outside her tackles, Hill- 
man ^s made her distance and the pigskin rested 
on the thirty-six yards. 

So far the Blue had attempted but three for- 
ward passes, of which only one had succeeded. 
Now, from position. Hop threw straight over the 
center, and somehow Lightner was there and 
pulled it down, although the enemy was clustered 
around him thick. That seven-yard igain was 
made ten when Deering was poked through the 
center, ten a little more, for the ball was down 
on High SchooPs twenty-four-yard line. The 
game that had been proclaimed a practice event 
for the purpose of seasoning the substitutes 
against Saturday’s contest had developed within 
the last half-hour into a battle to the death. 
Outside the gridiron the opposing factions hurled 
defiant cheers at each other and rooted as they 
had not rooted all the season. On the field the 


196 


THE TURNEE TWINS 


rivalry was even more intense, and black looks 
and hard knocks were the order. 

High School, sparring for time, administered 
to a breathless right guard, and then drew into 
a bunch for a whispered conference, while Hill- 
man ^s supporters hooted derisively. Deering 
gained three and Boessel two more. High School 
ran two substitutes on, and, after the next play, 
two more. An old-fashioned criss-cross sent 
Mason around his own right end for eight 
yards and planted the ball just short of the ten- 
yard line. Mason gave place to Beedle. A slide 
off tackle centered the pigskin and gained a scant 
yard. Deering struck center for a yard loss, 
and Lightner was caught off-side. The ball went 
back to the seventeen yards. 

High School was playing desperately and her 
line had stiffened. Beedle gave way to Ned after 
that second down, and Ned had his instructions. 
The ball was in front of High SchooPs goal, and 
from the seventeen yards a field goal was an 
easy proposition if the opponents could be held 
away from the kicker. Perhaps Hop Kendrick 
didn’t realize why Ned had been sent in, or per- 
haps he thought better of his own judgment. 
Since by the rules Ned could not communicate 
the instructions from the coach until after the 
following play, he could only look his surprise 
when Hop failed to call him back to kicking 
position. Farley, captain in Stevenson’s ab- 


LAUEIE MAKES A PROTEST 197 


sence, seemed to be on the point of protesting, 
and even took a step toward the quarter-back; 
but he evidently reconsidered, for he returned 
to his position at the end of the line, and the 
starting signal followed. 

The play was a fake attack on the right, with 
Boessel carrying the ball to the left inside of 
tackle, and it worked to perfection. High School, 
over-anxious, stormed to the defense of her 
threatened right side, and Boessel, with Ned 
hanging at his flank as far as the five-yard line, 
where the earth suddenly rose up and smote him, 
romped over the line for the last and deciding 
touch-down, while the Blue cohorts went fairly 
wild with delight. 

On the side-line. Coach Mulford turned to Joe 
Stevenson. ^^What do you think of Kendrick T’ 
he asked, smiling. 

“I ^d kiss him if I had him here,” answered 
Joe, grinning joyously. call him one sweet 
little quarter. Coach!” 

^‘Well, this was his day, all right,” mused the 
other; hope he will show up as well Satur- 
day. Now we fll see whether Turner can kick 
a goal. He ^s been doing some good work in 
practice, but he looks scared to death and will 
probably miss it by a mile.” 

And Ned was scared, too. He tried to steady 
his nerves by assuring himself that, whether he 
made it or missed it, the Blue had won the game, 


198 


THE TURNER TWINS 


and that consequently a failure made little differ- 
ence. But the silence of his schoolmates and 
the booing^’ of the visiting rooters affected him 
badly. To Hop, holding the ball from the turf, 
it seemed that Ned would never have done point- 
ing it. And so it seemed to the onlookers. 
Never was a kicker more deliberate. But at last 
Hop heard a faint ^‘Down!’^ and drew his fingers 
from beneath the oval and waited an anxious 
moment. Then there was a clean, hard thud, 
and the quarter-back, watching its flight, saw 
the pigskin rise lazily, end over end, and go 
straight and high over the bar. 

And he might have heard Ned^s loud sigh of 
relief, had not the pounding of the charging 
enemy and the cries of the Hillman ^s horde 
drowned it. 

Another kick-off and four plays ended the 
contest, and High School, after cheering half- 
heartedly, went off disgruntled and silent. 

On his way to the field-house, Ned, trotting 
along with Hop, encountered Polly and Mae in 
the throng, and paused to speak. ‘‘Bully game, 
wasnT itP’ he said. Then, seeing Mae’s High 
School banner, he added : ‘ ‘ High School put up a 
dandy fight, Mae.” 

“Indeed she did,” agreed Mae. “I thought 
once she was going to win, too.” 

Polly was laughing. “Poor Mae didn’t know 
which team she wanted to win,” she explained. 


LAURIE MAKES A PROTEST 199 

“When High School gained she waved her flag, 
and when Hillman’s gained she waved it just the 
same. She was waving it all the time! That 
was a lovely goal you made, Nid.” 

“Thanks. I — well, I was so scared I didn’t 
know whether to kick the ball or bite it I I ’m 
mighty glad it went over, though.” He nodded 
and hurried on in the wake of Hop, who, being 
a very earnest young gentleman and completely 
absorbed in the business of football, considered 
girls far outside his scheme of things. 

Three quarters of an hour later, Laurie arose 
from his recumbent position on the window-seat 
of Number 16 East Hall, and delivered an ulti- 
matum in quiet but forceful tones. “Ned,” he 
said, “I saw that game from about the middle 
of the first quarter to the bitter end. Nothing 
escaped my eagle gaze. I can even tell you ex- 
actly how many times that High School umpire 
consulted his rules book when he thought no one 
was looking. I know how much dirt there was 
in Frank Brattle’s left ear when they dragged 
him out. I know — ” 

“Well, what of it? What ’s your chief 
trouble?” growled Ned. 

“Knowing all this and more, much more, Ned- 
die, I refuse to listen any longer to your remi- 
niscences. You ’ve been through the game three 
times since you landed up here, and there ’s a 
limit to my endurance. And you ’ve reached 


200 


THE TURNER TWINS 


that limit, Neddie — ^you really have. I going 
down to George’s, where I may hear some- 
thing besides touch-downs and passes and goals. 
When you recover, Neddie, come on down.” 

“Oh, go to the dickens!” muttered Ned, as the 
door closed softly. 


CHAPTER XVin 


BEFORE THE BATTLE 

*^rilHE fellow who put these posts grunted 
Bob, as he heaved and tugged, ‘^must have 
had more time than brains ! ’ ’ 

It was Thursday afternoon. A hard frost, 
which had frozen the ground a half -inch deep, 
had counseled him to finish the work of wreck- 
ing the arbor. But three posts remained, and at 
one of these Bob, after having dug around it, and 
pried at it with a bar until patience was ex- 
hausted, was tugging lustily. Laurie, wiping 
the sweat of honest toil from his brow, cast aside 
the bar and gave a hand. 

‘‘Come on,’’ he said hopefully. “One, two — 
three ! Heave ! ’ ’ 

“Heave!” muttered Bob. 

But although the post, which had formed a 
comer of the arbor, gave from side to side, it 
refused to leave its nest. Panting, the boys drew 
otf and observed it glumly. 

“Guess we ’ll have to dig some more,” said 
Bob. 

“Wait a minute. Let me get a purchase on it 
with the bar.” 


201 


202 


THE TURNER TWINS 


Laurie seized that implement again and drove 
it into the softened earth beside the post. As 
the first drive did n’t send it far enough, he pulled 
it out, and put all his strength into the next ef- 
fort. This time he succeeded beyond all expec- 
tations. The bar slipped through his fingers 
and disappeared from sight! 

‘‘Well!” he gasped. “What do you know — 

“Where — where did it go to?” cried Bob, dum- 
founded. 

“It went — ^it went to China, I guess! It just 
slipped right through my hands, and kept on 
slipping!” Laurie knelt and dug at the hole 
with his fingers. 

“Find it?” asked Bob. “Try the shovel.” 

“No, I can’t feel it. Hand it here.” Laurie 
took the shovel and dug frantically. Then Bob 
dug. The result was that they enlarged and 
deepened the hole around the post, but the crow- 
bar failed to materialize. 

“I suppose,” said Laurie, finally, dropping the 
shovel and tilting back his cap, “what happened 
was that I struck a sort of hole, and the bar went 
right down in. Maybe it was a rat-hole. Bob.” 

“I guess so. Anyway, it ’s gone, and we ’ll 
have to get a new one.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, I guess we ’ll find it when we get the post 
out. Let ’s try the old thing.” 

They did, and, after a moment of indecision, 
it came out most obligingly. But there was still 


BEFORE THE BATTLE 


203 


no crowbar to be seen. Laurie shook his head, 
mystified. ^‘That ’s the funniest thing I ever 
saw,’^ he declared. 

‘Ht surely is! Look here; maybe there ^s an 
old well there. 

‘‘Then why didn’t the post go down into it!” 

“Because it ’s covered over with stones. The 
bar happened to slip into a — a crevice.” 

Laurie nodded dubiously. ‘ ‘ That might be 
it,” he agreed. “Or perhaps we ’ve discovered 
a subterranean cavern!” 

“Caverns always are subterranean, aren’t 
they?” 

“No; sometimes they ’re in the side of a hill.” 

“Then they ’re caves.” 

“A cave and a cavern are the same thing, you 
smart Aleck.” 

“All right; but even if a cavern is in a hill, 
it ’s underground, and subterranean means un- 
der) — ” 

“Help! You win. Bob! Come on and get 
hold of this log and let ’s get it out of here.” 
And, as they staggered with it across the garden 
to add it to the pile of posts and lumber already 
there, he continued: “There ’s one thing cer- 
tain, Bob, and that ’s that you won’t get me to 
play tennis on your court. I ’d be afraid of 
sinking into the ground some fine day ! ’ ’ 

“Maybe you ’d find the crowbar then,” said 
Bob. “Heave!” 


204 


THE TURNER TWINS 


Laurie heaved,’^ patted the brown loam from 
his hands, and surveyed the pile. There ^s a 
lot of good stuff there,’’ he pondered. ‘^Some 
of it ’s sort of rotten, but there ’s enough to build 
something. ’ ’ 

^^What do you want to build?” 

don’t know. We could build a sort of cov- 
ered seat, like the one in Polly’s yard, where 
folks could rest and look on. Take about six 
of these posts and some of the strips, and some 
boards for the seat — ” 

‘‘Who ’d dig the post-holes?” inquired Bob, 
coldly. 

“Oh, we could get a couple of the others to 
help. Honest, Bob, it would be a lot of fun. 
Maybe w^e couldn’t do it before spring, though.” 

“I might leave the stuff here,” said Bob. 
“Thomas could sort of pile it a little neater, you 
know. I love to carpenter. Sometime we ’ll 
draw a plan of it. Nod.” 

“ Right-0 ! How about those other posts? No 
use trying to do anything with ’em to-day, is 
there ? ’ ’ 

“No; we ’ll have to have another crowbar.” 

Laurie looked relieved. “Well, let ’s go over 
and see whether the Widow ’s got any of those 
little cakes with the chocolate on top,” he sug- 
gested. “Hard work always makes a fellow 
hungry. ’ ’ 

There was a rousing football meeting in the 


BEFORE THE BATTLE 


205 


auditorium that evening, with speeches and music, 
songs and cheers; and the enthusiasm spilled 
over to the yard afterward, and threatened to be- 
come unruly until Dan Whipple mounted the steps 
of School Hall and spoke with all the authority 
of eighteen years and the senior class presidency. 
Whereupon some one suggested a cheer for the 
Doctor, and the joyous crowd thronged to the west 
end of the building and gave nine long ‘‘ Hill- 
man ’s,’' with a “Doctor Hillman’’ on the end. 
And then suddenly the lights flashed on on the 
porch, and there were the Doctor and Miss Tahi- 
tha, the former looking very much as if he had 
awakened very recently from a nap — ^which was, 
in fact, the case. But he was smiling as he 
stepped to the doorway and near-sightedly sur- 
veyed the throng. 

“This — er — testimonial would appear to de- 
mand some sort of a response,” he announced, 
as the applause that had greeted his appearance 
died away. “But I find myself singularly de- 
void of words, boys. ' Perhaps some of you re- 
call the story of the visitor in Sunday-school who 
was unexpectedly called on by the superintendent 
to address the children. He hemmed and hawed 
and said, finally, that it gave him much pleasure 
to see so many smiling, happy faces. And he 
hoped they were all good little boys and girls 
and knew their lessons. And then his eloquence 
failed him, ^nd after an unhappy interim he 


206 


THE TURNER TWINS 


asked: ‘And now, children, what shall I say?’ 
And a little girl in the front row lisped : ‘ Pleathe, 
Mithter, thay “Amen^^ and thit down!’ 

“Perhaps I ’d better say ‘Amen’ and sit down, 
too,’^ he went on, when the laughter had ceased; 
“but before I do I ’d like to assure you that I am 
‘rooting^ just as hard as any of you for a vic- 
tory the day after to-morrow. My duties will 
not allow me to see the team in action, as much as 
I ^d like to, but I am kept well informed of its 
progress. I have my scouts at work constantly. 
Mr. Pennington reports to me on the work of the 
linAnen; Mr. Barrett advises me each day as 
to the backs; Mr. Wells is my authority on — er — 
stratagem. ^ ’ 

This amused his hearers intensely, since none 
of the three instructor's mentioned had ever been 
known to attend a game or watch a practice. 

“And,” continued the principal, when he 
could, “I follow the newspaper reports of our 
enemy’s progress. Of course, I don’t believe all 
I read. If I did I ’d be certain that only 
overwhelming disaster awaited us on Saturday. 
But there is one thing that troubles me. I read 
recently that the Farview center is a very large 
youth, weighing, if I am not mistaken, some one 
hundred and seventy pounds. While mere weight 
and brawn are not everything, I yet tremble to 
consider what may happen to the slight, atomic 
youth who will oppose him. Young gentlemen. 


BEFORE THE BATTLE 


207 


I shudder when I dwell on that unequal meet- 
ing, that impending battle of David and Goli- 
athT’ 

When the new burst of laughter had subsided, 
the doctor continued more soberly; wish the 
team all success, a notable victory. Or, if the 
gods of battle will it otherwise, I wish it the 
manly grace to accept defeat smilingly and un- 
dismayed. I am certain of one thing, boys, which 
is that, whether fortune favors the Dark Blue or 
the Maroon and White, the contest will be hard 
fought and clean, and bring honor alike to the 
victor and vanquished. You have my heartiest 
good wishes. And^^ — the doctor took the hand of 
Miss Tabitha, who had been standing a few steps 
behind him, — ‘‘and the heartiest good wishes of 
another, who, while not a close follower of your 
sports, has a warm spot in her heart for each 
and every one of you, and who is as firmly con- 
vinced as I am of the invincibility of the Dark 
Blue!’^ 

“Three cheers for Tab — for Miss Hillman!^’ 
cried a voice; and, at first a trifle ragged with 
laughter, the cheers rang forth heartily. Then 
came another cheer for the doctor and a rous- 
ing one for “Hillman^s! Hillman^sH HILL- 
MAN^S!!!^^ And the little throng, laughing 
and chattering, dispersed to the dormitories. 

Friday saw but a light practice for the first 
team and a final appearance of the scrubs, who, 


208 


THE TURNER TWINS 


cheered by the students, went through a few 
minutes of snappy signal work, and the waving 
sweaters and blankets- dashed off to the field- 
house, their period of servitude* at an end. For 
the first team there was a long blackboard drill 
in the gymnasium after supper, and Ned, who, 
somewhat to his surprise and very much to his 
gratification, had been retained on the squad, 
returned to Number 16 at nine o ^clock in a rather 
bemused condition of mind. Kewpie, who ac- 
companied him, tried to cheer him up. 

‘Ht ^11 be all right to-morrow, Nid,^’ he de- 
clared. know how you feel. Fact is, I 
wouldn’t know one signal from another if I got 
it this minute, and as for those sequences — ” 
Words failed him. ‘‘But when you get on the 
field to-morrow it ’ll all come back to you. It — 
it ’s sort of psychological. A trick of memory 
and all that. You understand!” 

“I don’t see why he needs to worry, anyhow,” 
observed Laurie, cruelly. “He won’t get a show 
in to-morrow’s game.”' 

Ned looked hopeful for a moment, then re- 
lapsed into dejection as Kewpie answered: “I ’d 
like to bet you he will. Nod. I ’d like to bet you 
that he ’ll play a full period. You just watch 
Farview lay for Pope! Boy, they’re going to 
make hard weather for that Jad! They were 
after him last year, but they couldn’t get him 
and he played right through. But I ^d like to 


BEFORE THE BATTLE 209 

bet you that to-morrow they ’ll have him out of 
it before the last quarter.” 

‘‘What do you mean?” asked Laurie, in sur- 
prise. “They don’t play that sort of a game, 
do they?” 

“What sort of a game?” responded Kewpie. 
“They play hard, that ’s the way they play! 
And every time they tackle Pope, they ’ll tackle 
him so he ’ll know it. And every time he hits the 
line, there ’ll be one of those red-legs waiting 
for him. Oh, they don’t play dirty, if you mean 
that; but they don’t let any chances slip, believe 
me ! ” 

“It sounds sort of off color to me, though,” 
Laurie objected. “How are you going to put 
a fellow out of the game if you don’t slug or do 
something like that?” 

Kewpie smiled knowingly. “My son,” he 
said, “if I start after you and run you around 
the dormitory about twenty times — 

Ned, in spite of his down-heartedness, snick- 
ered at the picture evolved, and Kewpie grinned. 

“Well, suppose some one else did, then. Any- 
how, after he ’d done it about a couple of dozen 
times, you’d be all in, wouldn’t you? He 
would n ’t have to kick you or knock you down or 
anything, would he? Well, that ’s what I mean. 
That ’s the way they ’ll go after Pope. They ’ll 
tire him out. You understand. And every time 
they tackle him, they ’ll tackle him good and hard. 


210 


THE TUENER TWINS 


Well, suppose Pope does go out, and there ’s a 
chance for a field goal, as there ’s likely to he. 
Who will Pinky put in? Why, Nid, of course! 
Who else is there? Brattle can^t kick one goal 
in six. No more can Deering. What do you 
think Mulford ^s been nursing Nid all the season 
for?’^ 

^‘Next year?^’ said Laurie, questioningly. 

‘^Sure — and this year, too. You watch and see. 
I^d like to bet you that Nid ’ll have a goal to kick 
to-morrow — yes, and that he ’ll kick it, tool” 

‘‘Don’t!” groaned Ned. “I never could do 
it!” 

“Well,” laughed Laurie, “I don’t bet for 
money, Kewpie, but I tell you what I ’ll do. If 
Ned kicks a goal to-morrow, I ’ll take you over 
to the Widow’s, and I ’ll buy you all the cream- 
puffs you can eat at one sitting!” 

“It’s a go!” cried Kewpie. “And if he 
doesn’t, I ’ll do it to you!” 

“Of course,” explained Laurie, in recognition 
of his brother’s look of pained inquiry, “I ’m not 
making the offer because I think Ned can’t do 
it, or because I don’t want him to play. You bet 
I do ! It ’s because I do want him to, Kewpie. 
You see, I usually lose bets!” 

“All right, you crazy galoot. I ’ve got to beat 
it. Pinky made us swear by the Great Horn 
Spoon to be in bed by ten. Good night. Don’t 
let the signal stuff worry you, Nid. It ’ll come 


BEFOEE THE BATTLE 211 

out all right to-morrow. You understand. 
Night I’ » 

When the door had closed, Laurie laughed and 
turned to Ned. ^‘He ^s a good old scout, isnT 
he? I say, what ’s the matter with you, Ned? 
You look like the end of a hard winter! Cheer 
up! It may not be true!’’ 

But Ned shook his head, although he tried to 
smile unconcernedly. ‘ ^ It ’ll happen just the way 
he told, Laurie,” he said, sadly. just know 
it will ! They ’ll get Pope out of the way, and 
there ’ll be a field goal wanted, just as there was 
Wednesday, and Mulford will send me in!” 

‘‘Well, what of it? You ’d like that, wouldn’t 
you?” 

“I — I ’m scared!” 

“Oh, piffle, Neddie! You ’ve got nerves, 
that ’s all. The night before the battle, you 
know, and all that ! In the morning you ’ll be as 
right as rain. Get your clothes otf and tumble 
in. Want me to read a story to you? There ’s 
a corker in the ‘Post’ this week.” 

“No, thanks; I guess not. I ’d better go to 
sleep.” 

But, although Ned, stifling a desire to sit up 
and read the corking story himself, put the light 
out at ten minutes before ten, he lay awake until 
after midnight and suffered as blue a case of funk 
as any boy ever did. And when, at length, sleep 
came, it was filled with visions in which he stood 


212 


THE TURNER TWINS 


in the center of a vast arena, the object of count- 
less eyes, and tried over and over, and never with 
success, to kick a perfectly gigantic leather ball 
over a cross-bar that was higher than the 
Masonic Temple at home! 

The truth is that Ned was over-trained and 
stale. And the further truth is that when he 
awoke to as sweet a November morning as ever 
peered down from a cloudless sky through golden 
sunlight, he felt, as he phrased it to himself, like 
a sock that had just come through the wringer! 


CHAPTER XIX 


NED IS MISSING 

ED ate almost no breakfast, and Laurie noted 
the fact, but, after a glance at his brother’s 
face, said nothing. After all, he reflected, there 
were probably others of the squad who were 
displaying no more appetite this morning. 
Afterward, on the way to School Hall for their 
only recitation of the day, he asked off-handedly : 
‘‘How are you feeling, Neddie?” 

Ned didn’t answer at once. When he did, 
he only replied laconically: “Rotten!” 

“How do you mean, rotten?” Laurie disguised 
anxiety under flippancy. “Tummy out of 
whack? Or is it a case of ingrowing signals?” 

“I don’t know what the trouble is,” answered 
Ned seriously. “I feel perfectly punk. And 
I — I ’m scared, Laurie. I ’d give a million dol- 
lars if I did n’t have to go to the field this after- 
noon. I wish to goodness I could duck somehow, 
Say, feel my forehead. Isn’t it hot?” 

Laurie felt, and shook his head. “Cool as a 
cucumber, you old fakir. Buck up, Neddie! 
You ’ll feel better after a while. Did you sleep 
all right?” 


213 


214 


THE TURNER TWINS 


guess so,’^ replied the other dispiritedly, 
dreamed a lot. Dreamed I was kicking 
goals over a bar as high as a mountain. And 
the ball was as big as a hogshead. And there 
were about a million folks watching me, and Mr. 
Cornish was beating a bass-drum.^' 

Laurie laughed. ‘‘Some dream, Neddie! 
Tell you what. After we get out of here, we’ll 
take a nice, long hike. Mulford wants the players 
to stay outdoors, does n’t he? Didn’t you tell 
me he said you were to walk or something?” 

Ned nodded. “I ’m too tired to walk, though, 
Laurie. Guess I ’ll get a book and go over to the 
park. Or go down and jump in the river!” 

“Pine ideal” scoffed Laurie. “What have 
you got against the river? It never did anything 
to you, did it?” 

Ned, however, refused to smile. “You don’t 
need to come along,” he said. “I — I guess I ’d 
rather be alone, Laurie.” 

“You will be, if you ’re going to jump in the 
river, partner! The water ’s a heap too cold to 
appeal to me. Well, cheer up. See you when 
we come out. ’ ’ 

There was a holiday feeling in the air this 
morning that did n ’t promise well for recitations, 
and Mr. Brock’s chemistry class was a sore trial 
to that gentleman. Yet, although he frowned 
often and sighed many despairing sighs, he made 
allowance for the prevailing mood of restless- 


NED IS MISSING 215 

ness aiid exhibited unusual patience. And finally 
it was over and the class trooped out. 

^‘You stay here/’ said Laurie, ^‘and I ’ll run 
over and get a couple of hooks from the room. 
What do you want 1 ’ ’ 

‘‘I don’t care — anything,” answered Ned, 
listlessly. 

When Laurie went off, Ned seated himself on 
a step and gazed forlornly around him. Groups 
of boys stood on the walks in animated conversa- 
tion. Near at hand, a half-dozen juniors were 
discussing the game avidly, drawing comforting 
conclusions from a comparison of the season’s 
performances of Hillman’s and Parview. Sud- 
denly the prospect of sitting on a park bench 
with Laurie became utterly distasteful to Ned, 
and, with a hurried glance in the direction of 
East Hall, he arose and made his way along the 
drive and into Summit Street. There he turned 
to the left and walked quickly to the corner. At 
Washington Street another look behind showed 
that he had made his escape, and he heaved a 
sigh of relief and went on past the library and 
into Cumber Street, heading unconsciously to- 
ward the open country eastward of town. 

When Laurie returned to School Hall with a 
book for Ned and a magazine for himself, he sat 
down and waited a few minutes, supposing that 
Ned would be back. When he didn’t come, 
Laurie went over to School Park, thinking that 


216 


THE TURNER TWINS 


he had perhaps grown tired of waiting in the 
yard. But no Ned was to be seen, and, puzzled 
but untroubled, Laurie dawdled into Pine Street. 
The white-and-red sign above the Widow Deane’s 
little store shone bravely in the sunlight. For 
an hour Laurie enjoyed the society of Polly and 
Antoinette in the sunny garden, where, against 
the board fence, a clump of hardy chrysanthe- 
mums made a cheery showing of yellow and 
lavender. Antoinette had retired to winter 
quarters, which means that a gunny-sack and a 
length of old red carpet had been draped over 
her box. But just now the drapery was lifted, 
and Antoinette was doing great things to a very 
large cabbage-leaf. Towser had established him- 
self in the sunshine atop the porch roof and 
gazed down benignly at the pair below. 

Laurie and Polly talked, of course, about the 
game. He and George were again to act as 
escorts to the two girls, a fact that had eaten a 
large hole in Laurie’s remaining allowance. 
About ten o’clock he took himself away, remind- 
ing Polly to be ready at half-past one, since it 
took a good ten minutes to walk to the field, and 
because, wisely, he realized that to Polly ‘‘half- 
past one” would mean a quarter or two. Climb- 
ing the fence into Bob’s yard, he discovered that 
young man with a new crowbar about to begin 
an attack on the remaining posts of the arbor. 
Bo he removed his sweater, moistened his hands 


NED IS MISSING 


217 


in the time-honored and only effioacions manner, 
and joined the assault. After the posts were 
added to the pile beside the fence, the two boys 
went indoors and refreshed the inner man with 
piping-hot ginger cookies. Thus it was that 
it was nearly noon when Laurie got <back to 
Number 16, to find, to his uneasiness, that Ned 
was not there. Nor, as far as any evidences 
showed, had he been there since before break- 
fast. 

Laurie threw himself on the window-seat and 
tried to apply himself to the magazine that he had 
carried all morning. But he began to be really 
worried about Ned. He didnT understand 
where he could be. Even if he had gone off by 
himself, mooning along the roads, which was 
what Laurie suspected he had done, he should 
have been home before this, for, as Laurie knew, 
the players were to go to lunch at twelve. Pres- 
ently he dropped the magazine and strode 
across the corridor to Number 15. Kewpie was 
not in, but Hop was there — a more than ordi- 
narily serious-faced Hop, who replied to Laurie ^s 
inquiry in an absent-minded manner suggesting 
that some one had placed him in a trance and gone 
away without awakening him. Hop had n T seen 
Nid all morning. Kewpie had just gone over to 
West Hall. He hoped there wouldn't be any 
wind this afternoon. Farview had a punter that 
could do fifty yards easily, and a wind would 


218 


THE TURNER TWINS 


lengthen his kidks frightfully. Did Nod think 
those clouds meant wind? 

Laurie withdrew without venturing an opinion 
in the matter. Football, he reflected, was a far 
more dangerous pastime than folks generally real- 
ized, when it could atfect a fellow ^s brains like 
that! Downstairs, he searched the little group 
about the dining-hall door, and finally made in- 
quiry of Dave Murray. Dave was worried and 
excited and a bit short-tempered. 

‘‘Nid Turner? No, I have n’t seen him. He ’ll 
be here pretty quick, though. We eat at twelve.” 

He left Laurie, to push his way toward the en- 
trance to accost Mr. Mulf ord, who was coming in ; 
and Laurie went out and sat down on the step and 
watched. Kewpie came striding across from 
West Hall, smiling and evidently very fit. But 
when Laurie questioned him the smile faded. 

‘ ‘ Nid ? No, I have n ’t set eyes on him. Is n ’t he 
here? Are you sure? Say, you don ’t suppose the 
silly guy has bolted? He was in mean shape last 
night. Nod. But he wouldn’t do that! He ’s no 
quitter. He ’ll be here in a minute or two.” 

‘^Suppose — suppose he isn’t?” asked Laurie, 
anxiously. ^ ^ W ould it matter much ? ’ ’ 

‘‘Matter?” Kewpie shrugged, one eye on the 
dining-hall door, through which his team-mates 
were beginning to pass. “It wouldn’t matter to 
the game, I guess. I was only trying to cheer him 
up last night. You understand. It isn’t likely 


219 


NED IS MISSING 

Pinky will use him. But it would be a bad thing 
for him, Nod. It would be an awful black eye, in 
fact, if he cut the game. Guess Pinky would just 
about can him for all time ! I say, I Ve got to 
hustle in there. Why don’t you have a look 
around for him? Maybe he ’s in the library, or 
over in West, or — or somewhere. See you later, 
Nod!” 

Kewpie disappeared into the dining-hall, and 
a moment later the door was closed. Laurie 
acted on Kewpie ’s suggestion, and made a thor- 
ough search of School Hall and the other dormi- 
tory, and even poked his head into the gymnasium, 
where only an empty floor met his gaze. After 
that there seemed nothing to do but wait. Ned 
had already missed his lunch, for the fellows 
were coming out into the corridor when Laurie 
returned to East Hall. Murray nailed him as 
he tried to pass unnoticed to the stairs. 

^‘Say, Nod, where ’s that brother of yours?” 
he demanded indignantly. ‘ ‘ Did n ’t he know that 
lunch was at twelve? Where is he, anyway?” 

‘H don’t know, Dave,” Laurie answered, mis- 
erably. ^^He went for a walk this morning, and 
I haven’t seen him since. I guess he went too 
far and could n ’t get back in time. I ’ve been 
looking all over for him.” 

^‘That ’s fine!” said the manager, bitterly. 
^‘Mulford asked for him, and I said I ’d look 
him up. You ’d better find him mighty quick, 


220 


THE TURNEE TWINS 


Nod. Tell him to get something to eat some- 
where and be at the gym not later than one. 
There ’s a floor drill then. I fll make it all right 
with Mulford, somehow. But there fll be the 
dickens and all to pay if he does n’t show up I”*" 

Hoping against hope, Laurie hurried up to 
the room. But there was no Ned. One o’clock 
came and passed. Time and again Laurie went 
to the gate and looked up and down the street, 
but without result. Ned had disappeared utterly, 
it seemed, and the unwelcome conclusion grew 
in Laurie’s mind that Ned had shown the white 
feather and had deliberately absented himself. 
Laurie did n ’t like to think that, and there were 
moments when he couldn’t. But here it was 
nearly half -past one, and Ned hadn’t come, and 
facts are facts ! It looked, he thought sadly, like 
a bad day for the honor of the Turners ! 

At half-past one he found George Watson in 
his room, and handed over one of his tickets. 

can’t go to the field with you,” he said, “but 
I ’ll find you over there. Try to keep a seat 
for me, will you?” 

“What ’s the big idea?” asked George, blankly. 
“Why can’t you go with us? That ’s a fine game 
to play!” 

“I ’ll tell you later. I — I ’ve got something to 
do. Be a good fellow, George, won’t you? And 
tell Polly how it is, will you?” 

“How the dickens can I tell Polly how it is when 


NED IS MISSING 


221 


I don’t know how it is myself?” asked George, in- 
dignantly. ^ ‘ Oh, all right ! Bnt you want to get 
there pretty quick, Nod. It ’s hard to hold seats 
when there aren’t enough of them in the first 
place. There ’s a regular mob going out there 
already!” 

Disconsolately Laurie hurried out and stationed 
himself at the dormitory entrance. Presently the 
players emerged from the gymnasium in their 
togs and passed through the little gate to Wash- 
ington Street. Laurie watched them file past, 
hoping hard that Ned would be among them. But, 
although all the rest were there, twenty-one in all, 
there was no Ned. 

From Washington Street and Summit Street 
came a steady tramping of feet, accompanied by 
a swishing sound as the pedestrians brushed 
through the fallen leaves. Occasionally an auto- 
mobile went by with a warning honk of its horn 
at the comer. Looking over the withered hedge, 
Laurie could see the colors of Hillman’s and Far- 
view marching past, banners of dark blue bear- 
ing the white Old English H, maroon-and-white 
flags adorned with the letters ‘^F. A.” Laughter 
and the merry, excited chatter of many voices 
came to him. The yard was empty, except for a 
hoy hurrying down the steps of West Hall, and 
he too quickly disappeared through the gate. 

Presently Laurie looked at his watch. The 
time was eighteen minutes to two. He left East 


222 


THE TURNER TWINS 


Hall and turned toward the gymnasium. Out of 
the shelter of the dormitory a little breeze fanned 
his face, and he remembered Hop Kendrick ^s 
dread of a wind that would put more power into 
the toe of the Parview punter. It might be, he 
reflected, that Hop was due for disappointment; 
but the matter didnT seem very important to 
him. The locker-room in the gymnasium was 
empty. Over the benches lay the discarded un- 
derclothing of the players, and sometimes the 
outer clothing as well, suggesting that excitement 
on this occasion had prevailed over orderliness. 
Laurie made his way to Ned’s locker. It was 
closed, and behind the unfastened door hung his 
togs. 


CHAPTER XX 


FOE THE HONOE OF THE TUENBES 

W ALKING felt good to Ned that morning. 
The air, brisk in spite of the sunshine and 
the day’s stillness, cleared his head of the queer 
cloudiness that had been there since awakening, 
and, turning into the country road that led east- 
ward toward the higher hills, he strode along 
briskly. He had, he reflected, played rather a low- 
down trick on Laurie ; but that could be explained 
later, and Laurie would n ’t mind when he under- 
stood. When he had gone the better part of a 
mile into the country, and the road had begun to 
steepen perceptibly, the sound of a motor behind 
warned him to one side. But, instead of passing in 
a cloud of dust, the automobile slowed down as it 
reached the pedestrian, and the driver, a genial- 
looking man of middle age, hailed. 

‘‘Going my way?” he asked. “Get in if you 
like.” 

Ned hesitated, and then climbed in beside the 
solitary occupant of the car. The prospect of 
speeding through the sunlit morning world ap- 
pealed to him, and he thanked the driver and 
snuggled into the other corner of the front seat. 

m 


224 


THE TURNER TWINS 


‘‘That ’s all right, my boy,^’ answered the man, 
genially. “Glad to have company. How far are 
yon going? 

“Just — just up the road a ways,^’ replied Ned, 
vaguely. “I was out for a walk, only this seemed 
better.’^ 

“Well, it ^s quicker, though it does nT give you 
quite so much exercise,’^ was the response. “You 
sing out when you We had enough. Maybe you 
can get a lift goings back, if you ^re not in too 
much of a hurry. Still, there isn’t much travel 
on this road. Most folks go around by Little 
Windsor. It ’s longer, but the road ’s a sight 
better. I go this way because I can do it quicker. 
There are some fierce bumps, though. Yell if 
you drop out!” 

The car was a heavy one with good springs, 
and as long as Ned remained in it the bad bumps 
didn’t materialize. His companion evidently 
liked to talk, and Ned learned a good deal about 
him and his business, without, however, finding 
it very interesting. The man asked few ques- 
tions, and so Ned merely supplied the information 
that he was from Hillman’s School and that he 
liked to walk and that he had all the morning 
to get back in. The car kept up an even, effort- 
less speed of twenty-seven or -eight miles an hour, 
and it was finding himself booming up the straight 
grade over Candle Mountain that brought Ned 
to a sudden realization that if he meant to get 


FOR HONOR OF THE TURNERS 225 

back to school by twelve o^clock without undue 
effort he had best part company with his chatty 
acquaintance. So, at the summit of the hill, he 
said good-by, repeated his thanks, and got out. 

Guess you ’re about six miles from Orstead,” 
said the man. ^Ht won’t take you long to get 
back there, though, if you find a lift. Don’t 
hesitate to stop any one you see ; they ’ll be glad 
to take you in. Good-by!” 

The gray automobile went on and was speed- 
ily dropping from sight beyond the nearly leaf- 
less forest. Ned watched it disappear, and then 
set his face toward home. The ride had certainly 
done him good, he told himself. The prospect of 
being called on to kick a dozen goals wouldn’t 
have dismayed him a mite at that moment. In 
fact, he suddenly realized that he was going to be 
horribly disappointed if the chance to attempt at 
least one goal from the field did not come to 
him, and he wondered why he had felt so craven 
last night. 

After a mile or so a small, dust-covered car 
overhauled him and went by without a challenge 
from him. It was still only ten o ’clock, and he had 
two hours yet, and he had no intention of begging 
a ride. Taken leisurely, the remaining miles 
would be covered without weariness and in plenty 
of time. When he had accomplished, as he reck- 
oned, about half the distance to Orstead, his watch 
said seventeen minutes to eleven. The forenoon 


226 


THE TURNER TWINS 


had grown appreciably warmer, and so had Ned. 
Beside the road was a little knoll carpeted with 
ashy-brown beech-leaves. Only a stone wall, bor- 
dered with blackberry briars, intervened. 

Ned climbed across the wall and seated himself 
on the slope of the knoll. The land descended 
gently before him toward the river and the town, 
but neither was in sight. Presently, removing 
his cap, he stretched himself on his back and 
linked his fingers under his head. And pres- 
ently, because the blue, sunlit, almost cloudless 
sky was too dazzling to gaze at long, he closed 
his eyes. And as he did so a strange, delicious 
languor descended upon him. He sighed luxur- 
iously and stretched his legs into a more comfort- 
able position. It was odd that he should feel 
sleepy at this time of day, he thought, and it 
would nT do to stay here too long. He wished, 
though, that he did nT have to get anywhere at any 
especial time. It would be great to just lie here 
like this and feel the sun on his face and — 

At about that moment he stopped thinking at 
all and went sound asleep. 

When he awoke he was in shadow, for the sun 
had traveled around and past the elbow of a near- 
by old and knotted oak whose brown-pink leaves 
still clung to the twisted branches. Ned looked 
around him in puzzlement, and it was a long mo- 
ment before he could account for his surround- 
ings. When he had, he sat up very quickly and 


FOE HONOE OF THE TUENEES 227 


gave a startled look at his watch. The thing was 
crazy ! It said twenty-one minutes past two ! Of 
course it could nT be that late, he told himself in- 
dignantly. But even as he said it he was op- 
pressed by a conviction that it was. And a look 
at the sun removed any lingering doubt ! 

He sprang to his feet, seized his cap, and 
stumbled across the wall, and, again on the road, 
set out at a run toward home. But after a mo- 
ment he slowed up. Was there any use in hurry- 
ing now? The game was already in progress — 
had been going on for twenty minutes. The first 
quarter was probably nearly over. What would 
they say to him, the fellows and Coach Mulford 
and — Laurie ? Somehow, what Laurie would 
think appeared far more important than what 
any of the others might. He would have such 
a poor excuse, he reflected ruefully! Went for 
a walk, and fell asleep by the road! Gee, he 
couldn’t tell them that! He might tell Laurie; 
but the others — 

He was jogging on as he thought things over. 
Even if he ran all the way, and he couldn’t do 
that, of course, he wouldn’t get to school before 
three. And then he would have to change into his 
togs and reach the field. And by that time the sec- 
ond half would have started. Wouldn’t it be 
far better to remain away altogether? He might 
easily reach his room unseen, and then, when 
Laurie returned, he could pretend illness. He 


228 


THE TUENEH TWINS 


might not fool Laurie ; but the others, Coach Mul- 
ford and Dave Murray and the fellows, would 
have to believe him. 

If a fellow was ill, he couldn’t be expected to 
play football. He even got as far as wondering 
what particular and peculiar malady he could 
assume, when he put the idea aside. 

‘‘No use lying about it,” he muttered. “Got 
to face the music, Ned! It was your own fault. 
Maybe Mulford will let me down easy. I 
wouldn’t like to queer myself for next year. 
Gee, though, what ’ll the school think? ” And Ned 
groaned aloud. 

While he had slept, five vehicles had passed him, 
and as many persons had seen him lying there 
asleep in the sun and idly conjectured about him. 
But now, when he needed help to conquer the 
interminable three miles that stretched between 
him and the town, and although he constantly 
turned his head to gaze hopefully back along 
the dusty road, not a conveyance appeared. 
Before long, since he had unwisely started at too 
great a speed, he was forced to sit down on a rock 
and rest. He was very nearly out of breath and 
the perspiration was trickling down beneath his 
cloth cap. A light breeze had sprung up since 
he had dropped asleep, and it felt very grateful 
as it caressed his damp hair and flushed face. 

Perhaps those three miles were nearer four, 
because when, tired, dusty, and heart-sick, he de- 


FOE HONOE OF THE TUENEES 229 


scried the tower of the Congregational church 
above the leafless elms and maples of the vil- 
lage, the gilded hands pointed to twelve minutes 
past three. Even had he arrived in time, he re- 
flected miserably, he would never have been able 
to serve his team-mates and his school, for he was 
scarcely able to drag one foot behind the other 
as he finally turned into the yard. 

The place appeared deserted, grounds and 
buildings alike, as Ned unhesitatingly made his 
way across to the gymnasium. He had long since 
decided on his course of action. No matter 
whether he had failed his coach and his school- 
mates, his duty was still plain. As late as it was, 
he would get into his togs and report at the 
field. But when, in the empty locker-room, he 
paused before where his football togs should 
have been, he found only empty hooks. The 
locker, save for towels, was empty ! 

At first he accepted the fact as conclusive evi- 
dence of his disgrace — thought that coach or man- 
ager or an infuriated student body had removed 
his clothes as a signal of degradation ! Then the 
unlikelihood of the conclusion came, and he won- 
dered whether they had really been there. But 
of course they had! He remembered perfectly 
hanging them up, as usual, yesterday afternoon. 
Perhaps some one had borrowed them, then. The 
locker had been unfastened, probably, for half the 
time he forgot to turn the key in it. Wondering, 


230 


THE TUENER TWINS 


he made his way out of the building, undecided 
now what to do. But as he reached the corner 
a burst of cheers floated to him from the play- 
field. His head came up. It was still his duty 
to report, togs or no togs! Resolutely he set 
out on Summit Street, the sounds of battle mo- 
mentarily growing nearer as he limped along. 

By the entrances many automobiles and some 
carriages lined the road. Above the stand the 
backs of the spectators in the top row of seats 
looked strangely agitated, and blue flags waved 
and snapped. A fainter cheer came to him, the 
slogan of Farview, from the farther side of the 
field. He heard the piping of signals, and a dull 
thud of leather against leather, then cries 
and a whistle shrilling; and then a great and 
triumphant burst of cheering from the Blue 
side. 

He hurried his steps, leaped the ,low fence 
beside the road, and came to a group of specta- 
tors standing at the nearer end of the long, low 
grand stand. He could see the gridiron now, and 
the battling teams in mid-field. And the score- 
board at the farther end! And, seeing that, his 
heart sank. Hillman ^s 7 — Visitors 9’^ was the 
story ! He tugged the sleeve of a man beside him, 
a youngish man in a chauffeur’s livery. 

‘‘What period is it?” he asked. 

“Fourth,” was the answer. The man turned 
a good-natured look on the boy’s anxious face. 


FOR HONOR OF THE TURNERS 231 


‘‘Been going about four minutes. You just get 
hereU’ 

Ned nodded. “How did they get their nine?’’ 
he asked. 

“Farview? Worked a forward pass in the 
second quarter for about thirty yards, and 
smashed over for a touch-down. They failed at 
goal, though. That made ’em six, and they got 
three more in the last quarter. Hillman’s 
fumbled about on their thirty, and that bandy- 
legged full-back of Farview ’s kicked a corking 
goal from field. Gee — say, it was some kick!” 

“Placement or drop?” 

“Drop. Almost forty yards, I guess. There 
they go again!” The chauffeur tiptoed to see 
over a neighbor’s head. Ned, past his shoulder, 
had an uncertain glimpse of the Maroon and 
White breaking through the Blue’s left side. 
When the down was signaled, he spoke again. 

“How did Hillman’s score?” he asked. 

“Huh? Oh, she got started right off at the 
beginning of the game and just ate those red-legs 
up. Rushed the ball from the middle of the field, 
five and six yards at a whack, and landed it on the 
other fellow’s door-sill. Farview sort of pulled 
together then and made a fight; but that big 
chap. Pope, the full-back, smashed through fi- 
nally, right square between the posts. After that 
he kicked the goal. Guess the red-legs had stage- 
fright then, but they got over it, and our fellows 


232 


THE TURNER TWINS 


haven’t had a chance to score since. Pope had 
to lay off last quarter. They played him to a 
standstill. Mason’s mighty good, hut he can’t 
make the gains Pope did. First down again! 
Say, they are n ’t doing a thing but eating us up ! ” 

Ned wormed himself to the front of the group, 
and came to anchor at the side of a tall police- 
man, close to the rope that stretched from the end 
of the stand well past the zone line. By craning 
his neck he could look down the length of the 
field. White-sweatered, armed with big blue 
megaphones, Brewster and Whipple and two 
others, cheer leaders, were working mightily, al- 
though the resulting cheers sounded weak where 
Ned stood. The teams were coming down the 
field slowly but surely, the Blue contesting every 
yard, but yielding after every play. The lines 
faced each other close to the thirty now. Across 
the gridiron, Farview’s paeans were joyful and 
confident, and the maroon-and-white flags gy- 
rated in air. Well back toward his threatened 
goal. Hop Kendrick, white-faced and , anxious, 
called hoarse encouragement. Ned clenched his 
hands and hoped and feared. 

A line attack turned into an unexpected for- 
ward pass, and a tall Farview end came streak- 
ing down just inside the boundary. Hop was 
after him like a shot ; but Peering, who had taken 
Pope’s place, ran him out at the fifteen-yard 
line. The Maroon and White went wild with 


FOR HONOR OF THE TURNERS 233 

joy. The teams trooped in on the heels of the 
diminutive referee, and the ball was down jnst 
inside Hillman ^s fifteen. Ned looked the Bine 
team over. Save for Corson and White, the line 
was made up of first-string men, bnt the back 
field was, with the single exception of Mason, 
all substitutes: Kendrick, Boessel, and Deering. 

A plunge straight at the center gave Farview 
two more precious yards, Kewpie, apparently 
pretty well played out, yielding before the des- 
perate attack. Three more yards were gained 
between Emerson and Stevenson on the left. 
Third down now, and five to go ! Evidently Far- 
view was determined on a touch-down, for on the 
nine yards, with an excellent chance for a field 
goal, she elected to rush again. But this time 
the Bluets center held, and the Farview left half, 
when friend and foe was pulled from above him, 
held the pigskin scarcely a foot in advance of its 
former position. It was Hillman’s turn to cheer, 
and cheer she did. Ned added a wild shout of 
triumph to the din about him. 

Fourth down, and still five yards to gain! 
Now Farview must either kick or try a forward, 
and realizing this the Blue’s secondary defense 
dropped back and out. A Farview substitute 
came speeding on, a new left tackle. Then, amid 
a sudden hush, the quarter sang his signals: 
^ ‘Kick formation ! 73 — 61 — 29 — ” The big full- 
back stretched his arms out. ‘‘12, — 17 — 91” 


234 


THE TURNER TWINS 


Back sped the ball, straight and breast-high. The 
Blue line plunged gallantly. The stand became 
a pandemonium. The full-back swung a long 
right leg, but the ball did nT drop from his hands. 
Two steps to the left, and he was poising it for a 
forward pass ! Then he threw, well over the up- 
stretched hands of a Hillman’s player who had 
broken through, and to the left. A Maroon-and- 
White end awaited the ball, for the instant all 
alone on the Blue’s goal-line. Ned, seeing, 
groaned dismally. Then from somewhere a pair 
of blue-clad arms flashed into sight, a slim body 
leaped high, and from the Hillman’s side of the 
field came a veritable thunder of relief and exul- 
tation. For the blue arms had the ball, and the 
blue player was dodging and worming toward 
the farther side-line! Captain Stevenson it was 
who cleared the path for him at the last moment, 
bowling over a Farview player whose arms were 
already stretched to grapple, and, in a shorter 
time than the telling takes. Hop Kendrick was 
racing toward the distant goal 1 

Afterward Ned realized that during the ensu- 
ing ten or twelve seconds he had tried desperately 
to shin up the tall policeman; but at the time he 
had not known it, nor, or so it appeared, had the 
policeman, for the latter was shouting his lungs 
out! Past the middle of the field sped Hop, 
running as fleetly as a hare, and behind him 
pounded a solitary Farview end. These two 


FOR HONOR OF THE TURNERS 235 

left the rest of the field farther and farther 
back at every stride. For a moment it seemed 
that Hop would win that desperate race ; but 
at last, near the thirty-five yards, he faltered, 
and the gap between him and his pursuer closed 
to a matter of three or four strides, and after 
that it was only a question of how close to the 
goal the Blue runner would get before he was 
overtaken and dragged down. The end came be- 
tween the fifteen- and twenty-yard streaks. Then, 
no more than a stride behind, the Farview player 
sprang. His arms wrapped themselves around 
Hop^s knees, and the runner crashed to earth. 

For a long minute the babel of shouting con- 
tinued, for that eighty-yard sprint had changed 
the complexion of the game in a handful of sec- 
onds. Hillman ^s was no longer the besieged, 
fighting in her last trench to stave off defeat, but 
stood now on the threshold of victory, herself the 
besieger ! 

Farview called for time. Two substitutes came 
in to strengthen her line. Hop, evidently no 
worse for his effort, was on his feet again, 
thumping his players on the backs, imploring, 
entreating, and confident. On the seventeen 
yards lay the brown oval, almost in front of the 
right-hand goal-post. A field goal would put the 
home team one point to the good, and, with only a 
few minutes left to play, win the game almost be- 
yond a doubt, and none on the Blue’s side of the 


236 


THE TURNER TWINS 


field doubted that a try at goal would follow. 
Even when the first play came from ordinary for- 
mation and Deering smashed into the left of Ear- 
view ^s line for a scant yard, the audience was 
not fooled. Of course, it was wise to gain what 
ground they might with three downs to waste, 
for there was always the chance that a runner 
might get free and that luck would bring a touch- 
down instead. 

Yet again Hop signaled a line attack. This 
time it was Mason who carried the ball, and he 
squirmed through for two yards outside left 
tackle, edging the pigskin nearer the center of the 
goal. Then came a shout that started near 
the Blue team’s bench and traveled right along 
the stand. A slight youngster was pulKng oft his 
sweater in front of the bench, a boy with red- 
brown hair and a pale, set face. Then he had 
covered the red-brown hair with a leather helmet 
and was trotting into the field with upraised hand. 

Ned stared and stared. Then he closed his eyes 
for an instant, opened them, and stared again. 
After that he pinched himself hard to make cer- 
tain that he was awake and not stiU dreaming on 
the knoll beside the road. The substitute was 
speaking to the referee now, and Deering was 
walking away from the group in the direction of 
the bench. The cheering began, the leaders wav- 
ing their arms in unison along the length of the 
Hillman’s stand: 


FOR HONOR OF THE TURNERS 237 


^Rah, ’rah, ’rah! ’Rah, ’rah, ’rah! ’Rah, 
’rah, ’rah ! Deering ! ’ ’ 

And then again, a second later: ’Rah, ’rah, 

’rah! ’Rah, ’rah, ’rah! ’Rah, ’rah, ’rah! Tur- 
ner ! ’ ’ 

Ned turned imploringly to the tall policeman. 
‘‘What — who was that last fellow they cheered?” 
he faltered. 

The policeman looked down impatiently. 

“Turner. Guess he ’s going to kick a goal 
for ’em.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE UNDEKSTIJDY 

jryLOCK that kick! Block that kick! Block 
that kick!^* chanted Farview imploringly, 
from across the trampled field. 

Yet above the hoarse entreaty came Hop Ken- 
drick ^s confident voice: ‘^All right, Hillman’s! 
Make it go! Here ’s where we win it! Kick 
formation! Turner back!” And then: ‘^25 — 
78 — 26 — 194 ! 12 — 31 — 9 — ’ ’ 

But it was Hop himself who dashed straight 
forward and squirmed ahead over one white line 
before the whistle blew. 

‘‘Fourth down!” called the referee. “About 
four and a half!” 

“Come on!” cried Hop. “Make it go this 
time! Hard, fellows, hard! We Ve got ’em go- 
ing!” He threw an arm over the shoulder of 
the new substitute. Those near by saw the lat- 
ter shake his head, saw Hop draw back and 
stare as if aghast at the insubordination. Far- 
view protested to the referee against the delay, 
and the latter called warningly. Hop nodded, 
and raised his voice again: 

“Kick formation! Turner back!” 

238 


THE UNDERSTUDY 239 

Then he walked back to where the substitute 
stood and dropped to his knees. 

‘‘Place-kick!^’ grunted a man at Ned’s elbow. 
“Can’t miss it from there if the line holds!” 

Ned, in a perfect agony of suspense, waited. 
Hop was calling his signals. There was a pause. 
Then: ^‘16— 32— 7—” 

Back came the ball on a long pass from Kewpie. 
It was high, but Hop got it, pulled it down, and 
pointed it. Ned saw the kicker step forward. 
Then he closed his eyes. 

There was a wild outburst from all around 
him, and he opened them again. The ball was 
not in sight, but a frantic little man in a gray 
sweater was waving his arms like a semaphore 
behind the farther goal. Along the space be- 
tween stand and side-line a quartette of youths 
leaped crazily, flourishing great blue megaphones 
or throwing them in air. Above the stand blue 
banners waved and caps tossed about. On the 
score-board at the far end of the field the legend 
read: “Hillman’s 10 — Visitors 9.” 

A moment later, a boy with a wide grin on 
his tired face and nerves that were still jangling 
made his way along Summit Street in the direc- 
tion of school. Behind him the cheers and shouts 
still broke forth at intervals, for there yet re- 
mained some three minutes of playing time. 
Once, in the sudden stillness between cheers, he 
heard plainly the hollow thump of a punted ball. 


240 


THE TURNER TWINS 


More shouts then, indeterminate, dying away sud- 
denly. The boy walked quickly, for he had a rea- 
son for wanting to gain the security of his room 
before the crowd flowed back from the field. At 
last, at the school gate, he paused and looked back 
and listened. From the distant scene of battle 
oame a faint surge of sound that rose and fell 
and rose again and went on unceasingly as long 
as he could hear. 

Back in Number 16 , Ned threw his cap aside and 
dropped into the nearest chair. There was much 
that he understood, yet much more that was still 
a mystery to him. One thing, however, he dared 
hope, and that was that the disgrace of having 
failed his fellows had passed him miraculously 
by I As to the rest, he pondered and speculated 
vainly. He felt horribly limp and weary while 
he waited for Laurie to come. And after a while 
he heard cheering, and arose and went to a win- 
dow. There could no longer be any doubt as to 
the final outcome of the game. Between the side- 
walk throngs, dancing from side to side of the 
street with linked arms, came Hillman’s, trium- 
phant ! 

And here and there, borne on the shoulders 
of joyous comrades, bobbed a captured player. 
There were more than a dozen of them, some tak- 
ing the proceeding philosophically, others squirm- 
ing and fighting for freedom. Now and then 
one succeeded in getting free, but recapture was 





“Turner. 


Guess 


he’s going to kick a goal 


for ’em,” 








THE UNDEKSTUDY 


241 


invariably his fate. At least, this was true with 
a single exception while Ned watched. The ex- 
ception was a boy with red-brown hair, who, hav- 
ing managed to slip from his enthusiastic friends, 
dashed through the throng on the sidewalk, leaped 
a fence, cut across a corner, and presently sped 
through the gate on Washington Street, pursuit 
defeated. A minute later, flushed and breathless, 
he flung open the door of Number 16. 

At sight of Ned, Laurie’s expression of joyous 
satisfaction faded. He halted inside the door 
and closed it slowly behind him. At last, ‘ ^ Hello, ’ ’ 
he said, listlessly. 

Hello,” answered Ned. Then there was a 
long silence. Outside, in front of the gymnasium, 
they were cheering the victorious team, player by 
player. At last, ‘‘We won, didn’t weV’ asked 
Ned. 

Laurie nodded as if the thing were a matter 
of total indifference. He still wore football togs, 
and he frowningly viewed a great hole in one 
blue stocking as he seated himself on liis bed. 

“Well,” he said, finally, “what happened to 
you?” 

Ned told him, at first haltingly, and then with 
more assurance as he saw the look of relief creep 
into Laurie’s face. As he ended his story, 
Laurie’s countenance expressed only a great and 
joyous amusement. 

“Neddie,” he chuckled, “you ’ll be the death 


242 


THE TURNEE TWINS 


of me yet! You came pretty near to it to-day, 
too, partner ! ’ ’ He sobered as his thoughts went 
back to a moment some fifteen minutes before, and 
he shook his head. Partner, this thing of un- 
derstudying a football hero is mighty wearing. 
I ’m through for aU time. After this, Ned, you fil 
have to provide your own substitute ! I ’m 
done ! ’ ^ 

‘^How — ^why — how did you happen to think of 
it?^’ asked Ned, rather humbly. ‘‘Weren’t you 
— scared?” 

“Scared? Have a heart! I was frightened to 
death every minute I sat on the bench. And then, 
when Mulford yelped at me, I — well, I simply 
passed away altogether ! I ’m at least ten years 
older than I was this morning, Neddie, and I ’ll 
bet I ’ve got gray hairs all over my poor old head. 
You see, Murray as much as said that it was all 
day with you if you didn’t show up. Kewpie 
was a bit down-hearted about it, too. I waited 
around until half-past one or after, thinking every 
moment that you ’d turn up — hoping you would, 
anyhow; although, to be right honest, Neddie, I 
had a sort of hunch, after the way you acted and 
talked, that maybe you ’d gone off on purpose. 
Anyhow, about one o’clock I got to thinking, and 
the more I thought the more I got into the notion 
that something had to be done if the honor of the 
Turners was to be — be upheld. And the only 
thing I could think of was putting on your togs 


THE UNDERSTUDY 243 

and bluffing it through. Kewpie owned up that 
he ’d been talking rot last night — that he didn’t 
really think you ’d be called on to-day. And I 
decided to take a chance. Of course, if I ’d known 
what was going to happen I guess I wouldn’t 
have had the courage; but I didn’t know. I 
thought all I ’d have to do was sit on the bench 
and watch. 

‘‘So I went over to the gym and got your togs 
on, and streaked out to the field. I guess I looked 
as much like you as you do, for none of the fel- 
lows knew that I was n’t you. I was careful 
not to talk much. Mr. Mulford gave me thunder, 
and so did Murray, and Joe Stevenson looked 
pretty black. I just said I was sorry, and there 
wasn’t much time to explain, anyway, because 
the game was starting about the time I got there. 
Once, in the third period, when Slavin was hurt, 
Mulford looked along the bench and stopped when 
he got to me, and I thought my time had come. 
But I guess he wanted to punish me for being 
late. Anyway, Boessel got the job. When the 
blow did fall, Neddie, I was sick clean through. 
My tummy sort of folded up and my spine was 
about as stiff as — as a drink of water! I wanted 
to run, or crawl under the bench or something. 
‘You ’ve pleased yourself so far to-day. Turner,’ 
said Mulford. ‘Now suppose you do something 
for the school. Kendrick will call for a kick. 
You see that it gets over, or I ’ll have something 


244 


THE TUENER TWINS 


to say to you later. Remember this, though : not 
a word to any one but the referee until after the 
next play. Now get out there and win this 
gameV 

‘‘Nice thing to say to a chap who ’d never kicked 
a football in his life except around the street! 
But, gee, Neddie, what could I do? I ’d started 
the thing, and I had to see it through. Of course 
T thought that maybe I ’d ought to fess up that 
I wasn^t me — or, rather, you — and let some 
one else kick. But I knew there was nT any one 
else they could depend on, and I decided that if 
some one had to miss the goal, it might as well 
be me — or you. Besides, there was the honor of 
the Turners! So I sneaked out, with my heart 
in my boots, — your boots, I mean, — and Hop 
called for a line play, and then another one, and I 
thought maybe I was going to get olf without 
making a fool of myself. But no such luck. 
‘Take all the time you want, Nid,^ said Hop. 
‘We ’ll hold ’em for you. Drop it over, for 
the love of mud! We ’ve got to have this game!’ 
‘Drop it?’ said I. ‘Not on your life. Hop ! Make 
it a place-kick or I ’ll never have a chance!’ 
‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘I mean I can’t 
drop-kick to-day. ’ I guess something in my voice 
or the way I said it put him on, for he looked at 
me pretty sharp. Still, maybe he didn’t guess 
the truth, either, for he let me have my way and 
let me kick. 


THE UNDERSTUDY 


245 


After that’’ — Laurie half closed his eyes and 
shook his head slowly — after that I don’t really 
know what did happen. I have a sort of a hazy 
recollection of Hop shouting some signals that 
did n ’t mean a thing in my young life, and kneel- 
ing on the ground a couple of yards ahead of me. 
I didn’t dare look at the goal, though I knew it 
was ahead of me and about twenty yards away. 
Then there was a brown streak, and things began 
to move, and I moved with them. I suppose I 
swung my foot, — probably my right one, though 
it may have been my left, — and then I closed my 
eyes tight and waited for some one to kill me. 
Next thing I knew, I was being killed — or I 
thought I thought I was, for a second. It turned 
out, though, that the fellows weren’t really kill- 
ing me ; they were just beating me black and blue 
to show they were pleased. 

‘‘Of course, it was all the biggest piece of luck 
that ever happened, Ned. Hop aimed the ball 
just right, and somehow or other I managed to 
kick it. Maybe any one would have done just as 
well, because I guess it was an easy goal. Any- 
way, the honor of the Turners was safe!” 

“You ’re a regular brick,” said Ned, a bit 
huskily. “What — ^what happened afterward? 
I didn’t stay.” 

“Afterward Hop looked at me kind of queer 
and said, ‘I guess that ’ll do for you. Turner,’ 
and I beat it away from there as fast as I knew 


246 


THE TUENEE TWINS 


how, and Mulford sent in some other poor nn- 
fortnnate. There were only half a dozen plays 
after that, and we kicked whenever we got the 
ball/’ 

‘^Do you think any one but Hop found out?” 
asked Ned, anxiously. 

‘^Not a one. And I ’m not sure, mind you, that 
Hop did. You see, he didn’t say anything. 
Only, he did call me ‘Nid’ at first, and then 
‘Turner’ the next time. I haven’t seen him 
since. I guess I never will know, unless I ask 
him. One thing ’s sure, though, Ned, and that 
is that Hop won’t talk.” 

“You don’t think I ’d ought to fess up?” asked 
Ned. 

“I do not,” replied Laurie stoutly. “What ’s 
the good? It wasn’t your fault if you went to 
sleep out in the country. If any one ’s to blame, 
it ’s me. I oughtn’t to have hoaxed them. No, 
sir; if Mulford or any one says anything, just 
you tell them you fell asleep and couldn’t help 
getting there late. But I don’t believe any one 
will ask questions now. They ’re all too pleased 
and excited. But, gee, Neddie! I certainly am 
glad I made that goal instead of missing it. I ’d 
be a pretty mean feeling pup to-night if I had n’t !” 

“It was wonderful,” mused Ned. “You put- 
ting it over, I mean. With all that crowd looking 
on, and Farview shouting — ” 

“Shouting? I didn’t hear them. I didn’t 


THE UNBEBSTUDT '247 

know whether there was any one around just then ! 
I had troubles of nay own, partner ! Know some- 
thing 1 W ell, I think there ’s the chap who kicked 
that goal.'' Laurie raised his right foot and dis- 
played one of Ned's scuffed football shoes. 
guess I just sort of left things to him and he did 
the business. Good old Mister Shoe ! ' ' 

Ned jumped to his feet and pulled Laurie from 
the bed. ‘‘For the love of lemons," he cried, 
‘^get those togs off before any one comes in!" 

‘‘Gee, that 's so!'^ Laurie worked feverishly, 
while Ned stumbled over a chair and turned the 
key in the lock. 

“A fine pair of idiots we are!" exclaimed Ned, 
as he ripped Laurie's shirt off for him. “Sup- 
pose Hop or Kewpie had come in while we were 
sitting here ! ' ' 

Hillman's spent the rest of the evening in 
celebration. In the dining-hall the appearance of 
any member of the squad was the signal for hand- 
clapping and cheers, and when Ned entered, fol- 
lowed by Laurie, the applause was deafening. 
Ned showed himself to be a very modest and re- 
tiring hero, for he fairly scuttled to his seat, and 
kept his head bent over his plate long after the 
applause had died away. Then, stealing an un- 
happy glance at Laurie, he found that youth grin- 
ning broadly, and was the recipient of a most 
meaningful wink. After supper, in the corridor, 
the twins ran squarely into Hop Kendrick. Ned 


248 


THE TUENER TWINS 


tried to pull aside, but Laurie stood his ground. 
Hop was plainly a very happy youth to-night, 
although even when happiest he never entirely 
lost his look of earnest gravity. 

‘‘Well, we did it, Nid!’’ he said joyfully, clap- 
ping that youth on the shoulder. “That was a 
corking kick of yours, son!^^ 

Ned stammered something utterly unintel- 
ligible, but Laurie came to the rescue: “Ned says 
it was the way you pointed the ball that won that 
goal. Hop,” he said casually. “He’s mighty 
modest about it.” 

Hop shot a quick glance at the speaker, and Ned 
declared afterward that there was a smile be- 
hind it. But all he said was : ‘ ‘ Oh, well, pointing 
isn’t everything. Nod. Some one^s got to kick 
it!” 

When he had gone on, Ned and Laurie viewed 
each other questioningly. “Think he knows?” 
asked Ned. Laurie shook his head frowningly. 
“You ’ve got me, partner!” he answered. 

And, because neither asked Hop Kendrick out- 
right, neither ever did know ! 

There were songs and speeches and a general 
jollification after supper, ending in a parade of 
cheering, singing youths who marched through 
the town from end to end, and at last drew up 
outside Doctor Hillman’s porch and shouted until 
that gentleman appeared and responded. The 
Doctor’s words were few, but they hit the spot, 


THE UNDEESTUDY 


249 


and when there had been another lon^ cheer for 
him, and another long cheer for the team, and a 
final mighty cheer for the school, the happy boys 
called it a day and sought the dormitories. 

Ned was just dropping off to sleep that night 
when Laurie voice reached him through the 
darkness. 

‘ ^ Ned ! ^ ^ called Laurie. 

‘‘Are you awaked’ 

“Uh-huh.’^ 

“Listen. It ^s a fortunate thing to be a twin.’^ 

There was a long moment of silence. Then 
Ned’s voice came sleepily: 

“ ’Cause if one twin can’t the other twin kin!” 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE BOYS MAKE A PEESEKT 

T he week or so succeeding the Farview game 
seemed like an anticlimax. The bottom had 
sort of dropped out of things and there was no im- 
mediate excitement to look forward to. The 
weather became as miserable as weather possibly 
could, the slight snowfall that followed the rain 
of Thanksgiving Day lasting only long enough 
to be seen by the early risers. Perhaps it was 
well that lack of events and inclement weather 
ruled, for Ned and a good many other boys in 
school were no worse for an opportunity to apply 
themselves undisturbedly to their studies. 
Basketball candidates were called the first Mon- 
day in December, and the twins held a serious 
conference on the question of reporting. Ned, 
who felt rather flat since there was no more foot- 
ball, was half inclined to go in for the game, and 
would have had Laurie insisted. But Laurie 
voted that for the present the Turners had done 
sufficient in the athletic line, that the honor of 
the family demanded no further sacrifices on the 
altar of duty. So Ned abandoned the idea and 
talked of trying for the crew in the spring. 


THE BOYS MAKE A PEESENT 251 

When December was a week old, the fellows 
set their gaze on the Christmas recess, which this 
year began on Wednesday, three days before 
Christmas, and lasted until the 2d of January. 
Eleven days are not sufficient to make a trip 
across the continent and back advisable, although 
the twins figured that, with the best of fortune, 
they would be able to reach Santa Lucia in time 
for dinner Christmas night. On the other hand, 
the missing of one connection would delay their 
arrival until the following afternoon, and, as 
Laurie pointed out, they were fairly certain to 
be held up somewhere on the way, and a sleeping- 
car wasn^t exactly an ideal place in which to 
spend the holiday! Besides, there was a notice- 
able lack of encouragement from home. It had 
been accepted beforehand that the boys were to 
remain at the school during the recess, and 
nothing in Mr. Turner’s fortnightly letters 
hinted that he had changed his mind. 

’d just as lief stay here, anyway,” declared 
Ned. ‘^We can have a lot more fun. Maybe 
there ’ll be a bunch of snow, and I ’m dying to 
try skiing.” 

‘‘You bet! And skating, too! And then 
there ’s that other scheme. Mustn’t forget that, 
Neddie.” 

“You mean — ” 

“Yes. Didn’t you say we ^d do it during 
vacation?” 


252 


THE TURNER TWINS 


‘‘Sure! It — ^it ^11 take quite a lot of money, 
though, Laurie. And we T have presents to 
buy for Dad and Aunt Emmie and the cous- 
ins — 

“The cousins get Christmas cards, and that ’s 
all they do get,^’ interrupted Laurie, decisively. 
“That ’s all they ever give us, and I ’d rather 
spend my money on something that ’ll really — 
really benefit some one. I guess Dad ’ll send us 
some more money, too, for Christmas. We can 
do it, all right. I ’ve got nearly seven dollars 
right now. I haven’t spent hardly any money 
this month.” 

“All right. Some day soon we ’ll go down- 
town and find out how much it ’s going to cost 
and what we ’ll need and everything. I say, we 
can get Bob to help us, too!” 

“Rather! And three or four other fellows, I 
guess. Every one likes the Widow, and George 
says there will be five or six fellows here during 
recess. He was here last year, and he says he 
had a dandy time.” 

“Let ’s get George this afternoon and get the 
thing started. We can find out the — the area and 
ask the man how much we ’ll need.” 

“Sure! And we can buy it and store it at 
Bob’s. Then all we ’ll have to do will be carry 
it over the fence. I ’ll go down and see if I can 
find him. Look here, Neddie. Why don’t we do 
it before Christmas and make it a sort of Christ- 


THE BOYS MAKE A PRESENT 253 

mas present? Say we worked hard all day 
Thursday and Friday — 

^ ‘ Great ! Only if it snowed — ^ ^ 

Laurie ’s face fell. * ‘ Gee, that ^s so ! I sup- 
pose we could n T do it if it snowed. Or rained. 
Or if it was frightfully cold.’^ 

‘‘They say it doesn^t get real cold here until 
after New Yearns,’’ said Ned, reassuringly. 
“But of course it might snow or rain. Well, 
we dl do* it in time for Christmas if we can. If 
we can% wedl do it for New Yearns. Ill bet 
she dl be tickled to death. I say, though! We 
never found out about the color 
“I did,’’ answered Laurie modestly. “I asked 
Polly. She said white.” 

“White! Geewhillikins, Laurie, that makes it 
harder, doesn’t it? We ’d have to put on two 
coats !” 

“Think so?” Laurie frowned. “I guess we 
would. That would take twice as long, eh? Look 
here; maybe — maybe I can get Polly to change 
her mind ! ” 

“That ’s likely, you chump!” Ned scowled 
thoughtfully. Finally, “I tell you what,” he said. 
“Suppose we went around there sometime, and 
talked with Mrs. Deane, and told her how nice we 
think blue looks and how sort of — of distinctive ! 
Gee, it wouldn’t be any trick at all to make it 
blue; but white — ” He shook his head despond- 
ently. 


254 


THE TURNER TWINS 


Cheer up!^’ said Laurie. Ve got the dope, 
partner! Listen. We dl tell them that it ought 
to be blue because blue ^s the school color and all 
that. Mrs. Deane thinks a heap of Hillman’s, 
and she ’ll fall for it as sure as shooting. So ’ll 
Polly ! Come on 1 Let ’s find George and get the 
thing started!” 

‘‘Better get Bob to go with us, too. He said 
something about wanting to pay his share of it, 
so we ’d better let him in right from the start. 
After all, we don’t want to hog it, Laurie!” 

A fortnight later the exodus came. Of the four- 
score lads who lived ajf; Hillman’s, all but eight 
took their departure that Wednesday morning, 
and Ned and Laurie and George watched the last 
group drive otf for the station with feelings of 
genuine satisfaction. Life at school during the 
eleven days of recess promised to be busy and 
enjoyable, and they were eager to see the decks 
cleared, so to speak, and to start the new way of 
living. Ned and Laurie had had plenty of in- 
vitations for Christmas week. Both Kewpie and 
Lee Murdock had earnestly desired their society 
at their respective homes, and there had been 
others less insistent but possibly quite as cordial 
invitations. But neither one had weakened. 
George half promised one of the boys to visit him 
for a few days after Christmas, but later he 
canceled his acceptance. 

Besides George and the twins^ there remained 


THE BOYS MAKE A PRESENT 255 

at school five other fellows who, because they 
lived at a distance and railway fares were high, or 
for other reasons, found it expedient to accept 
Doctor Hillman's hospitality. None of the five, 
two juniors, one lower middler, and two upper 
middlers, were known to the twins more than 
casually when recess began; but eating together 
three times a day and being thrown in one an- 
other's society at other times soon made the ac- 
quaintance much closer, and all proved to be de- 
cent, likable chaps. 

Meals were served at a corner tabje in West 
Hall, and during recess there were seldom fewer 
than three of the faculty present. That may 
sound depressing, but in vacation-time an 
instructor becomes quite a human, jovial person, 
and the scant dozen around the table enjoyed 
themselves hugely. In the evening Doctor Hill- 
man held open house, and Miss Tabitha showed a 
genius for providing methods of entertainment. 
Sometimes they popped corn in the fireplace in 
the cozy living-room, sometimes they roasted 
apples. Once it was chestnuts that jumped on the 
hearth. Then, too. Miss Tabitha was a past mis- 
tress in the art of making fudge, and on two 
occasions Mr. Barrett, the mathematics instructor, 
displayed such a sweet tooth that the boys lost the 
last of their awe and ‘‘ragged" him without 
mercy. Several times the Doctor read aloud, 
choosing, to the boys ' surprise, a corking detective 


256 


THE TUENER TWINS 


novel that had them squirming on the edges of 
their chairs. Toward the last of the vacation, 
Laurie confided to Ned and George that he wished 
recess was just beginning. 

To Ned’s and Laurie’s great disappointment, 
neither snow nor ice appeared and the weather 
remained merely briskly cold, with sometimes a 
day like Indian summer. But I am getting ahead 
of my story, which really comes to an end on 
Christmas Bay. 

More than a week before the closing of school, 
the four conspirators had finished their prepara- 
tions for the task that was to provide the Widow 
Beane with a novel Christmas present. In Bob’s 
cellar were many cans containing blue paint, white 
paint, linseed oil, and turpentine. There were 
brushes there, too, and a scraper, and a roll of 
cotton rags provided by Polly. For, in the end, 
it had become necessary to acquaint Polly with 
the project. Against Bob’s back fence reposed 
all the ladders, of varying lengths, that the neigh- 
borhood afforded. Wednesday evening Ned and 
Laurie and George herded the other boys into 
George’s room, and explained the scheme and 
asked for volunteers. They got five most en- 
thusiastic ones. 

Nine o’clock the next morning was set as the 
time for the beginning of the work, and at that 
hour nine rather disreputably-attired youths ap- 
peared in Mrs. Beane’s yard, arriving by way of 


THE BOYS MAKE A PRESENT 257 


the back fence, and began their assault. The first 
the Widow knew of what was happening was 
when, being then occupied with the task of tidying 
up the sleeping-room on the second floor, she was 
startled to see the head and shoulders of a boy ap- 
pear outside her window. Her exclamation of 
alarm gave place to murmurs of bewilderment as 
the supposed burglar contented himself with lift- 
ing the two shutters from their hinges and pass- 
ing them down the ladder to some unseen accom- 
plice. Mrs. Deane looked forth. In the garden 
was what at first glimpse looked like a convention 
of tramps. They were armed with ladders and 
brushes and pots of paint, and they were already 
very busy. Across two trestles set on the grass 
plot, the stolen shutters were laid as fast as they 
were taken down. One boy, flourishing a broad- 
bladed implement, scraped the rough surfaces. 
A second plied a big round brush, dusting 
diligently. Numbers three and four, as soon as 
the first two operatives retired, attacked with 
brushes dripping with white paint. In almost 
no time at all the first shutter was otf the trestles 
and leaning, fresh and spotless, against the fence. 
Every instant another shutter appeared. Mr.s. 
Deane gazed in fascinated amazement. One after 
another, she recognized the miscreants: the two 
Turner boys, George Watson, Mr. Starling’s son, 
Hal Goring, the Stanton boy, and the rest; but, 
although recognition brought reassurance, be- 


258 


THE TURNER TWINS 


wilderment remained, and she hurried downstairs 
as fast as ever she could go. 

Polly was on the back porch, a very disturbed 
and somewhat indignant Towser in her arms, 
evidently a party to the undertaking, and to her 
Mrs. Deane breathlessly appealed. 

‘‘Polly! What are they doing she gasped. 

“You ^11 have to ask the boys, Mama.^’ Polly ^s 
eyes were dancing. “Nid, here ’s Mama, and she 
wants to know what you ’re doing!” 

Nid hurried up, a dripping brush in one hand 
and a smear of white paint across one cheek, 
followed by Laurie. The others paused at their 
various tasks to watch smilingly. 

“Painting the house, Mrs. Deane!” 

“Painting the house! My house? Why — 
why — ^what — ^who — ” 

“Yes ’m. There ’s the blue paint. It ’s as 
near like the old as we could find. You don’t 
think it ’s too dark, do you?” 

“But I don’t understand, Nid Turner!” said 
Mrs. Deane helplessly. “Who told you to? 
Who ’s going to pay for it?” 

“It ’s all paid for, ma’am. It — it ’s a sort of 
Christmas present from us — from the school. 
You — you don’t mind, do you?” 

“Well, I never did!” Mrs. Deane looked from 
Ned to Laurie, her mouth quivering. “I — I 
don’t know what to say. I guess I ’ll — I ’ll go see 
if any one’ s — in the shop, Polly. Did you think 


THE BOYS MAKE A PRESENT 259 

you — heard the bell?’’ Mrs. Deane’s eyes were 
frankly wet as she turned hurriedly away and 
disappeared inside. Ned viewed Polly anxiously. 

‘‘Do you think she — doesn’t like it?” he half 
whispered. 

Polly shook her head and laughed softly, al- 
though her own eyes were not quite dry. “Of 
course she likes it, you stupid boy! She just 
didn’t know what to say. She ’ll be back pretty 
soon, after she ’s had a little cry.” 

“Oh!” said Ned and Laurie in chorus, their 
faces brightening; and Laurie added apologeti- 
cally: “Gee, we didn’t want to make her cry, 
Polly!” 

“That sort of a cry doesn’t hurt,” said Polly. 

Afterward Mrs. Deane said a great deal, and 
said it very sweetly, and the boys got more or less 
embarrassed, and were heartily glad when she 
drew Ned to her and kissed him, much to that 
youth’s distress, and the incident ended in 
laughter. By noon the shutters were done, and 
nine industrious amateur painters were swarming 
over the back of the little house. I ’m not go- 
ing to tell you that the job was done as perfectly 
as Sprague and Currie, Painters and Paper- 
hangers, would have done it, but you ’re to b,e- 
lieve that it was done much quicker and at a far 
greater saving of money! And when it was fin- 
ished no one except a professional would ever 
have known the ditference. Perhaps there was 


260 


THE TURNER TWINS 


more blue and white paint scattered around the 
landscape than was absolutely necessary, and it al- 
ways remained a mystery how Antoinette man- 
aged to get her right ear looking like a bit of 
Italian sky, for every one professed ignorance 
and Antoinette was apparently well protected 
from spatters. (It took Polly more than a week 
to restore the rabbit to her original appearance.) 

When the early winter twilight fell and it be- 
came necessary to knock off work for the day, the 
blue painting was more than half done and, un- 
less weather prevented, it was certain that the 
entire task would be finished by to-morrow eve- 
ning. Mrs. Deane served five-o ^clock tea, — only it 
happened to be four-o’clock tea instead, — and nine 
very, very hungry lads did full justice to the re- 
past, and the little room behind the store held 
a merry party. Perhaps the prevailing odor of 
paint detracted somewhat from Mrs. Deane’s 
and Polly’s enjoyment of the refreshments, but 
you may be certain they made no mention of 
the fact. 

That night the boys viewed the cloudy sky 
apprehensively. Laurie, who knew little about 
it, declared dubiously that it smelt like snow. But 
when morning came, although the cloudiness per- 
sisted most of the day, the weather remained 
kindly, with just enough frost in the air to chill 
feet and nip idle fingers and to give an added zest 
to labor. Very little time was wasted on luncheon, 
and at two o’clock the last slap of blue paint had 


THE BOYS MAKE A PEESENT 261 

been applied and the more difficult work of 
doing the white trim began. Fortunately, there 
were only eleven windows and two doors, and 
although ‘ 'drawing'’ the sashes was slow and 
finicking work, with nine willing hands hard at 
it the end came shortly after dusk, when, watched 
by eight impatient companions, young Haskell, 
one of the junior class boys, with trembling fingers 
drew his brush along the last few inches of a 
front window, and then, because he was quite 
keyed up and because it was much too dark to 
see well, celebrated the culmination of his efforts 
by putting a foot squarely into a can of white 
paint ! 

When first-aid methods had been applied, he 
was allowed, on promise to put only one foot 
to the floor, to accompany the rest inside and 
announce to a delighted and slightly tremulous 
Mrs. Deane that the work was completed. There 
was a real celebration then, with more piping- 
hot tea and lots of perfectly scrumptious cream- 
puffs, — besides less enticing bread-and-butter 
sandwiches, — and Mrs. Deane tried hard to thank 
the boys and could n't quite do it, and Polly failed 
almost as dismally, and Laurie made a wonder- 
ful speech that no one understood very well, ex- 
cept for the general meaning, and nine flushed 
and very happy youths cheered long and loudly 
for Mrs. Deane, and finally departed merrily into 
the winter twilight, calling back many a "Merry 
Christmas" as they went. 


CHAPTER XXin 


THE SECRET PASSAGE 

C HRISTMAS DAY dawned clear and mild, 
a green Christmas if ever there was one. 
And yet, in spite of the absence of such tradi- 
tional accompaniments as snow and ice, the spirit 
of the season was there in abundance. Ned and 
Laurie, wakening early to the sound of church 
bells, felt Christmasy right from the first con- 
scious nfoment. When they hastened down the 
hall for their baths, they could hear George and 
Hal Goring on the floor below uniting in what they 
fondly believed was song. Later, at breakfast, 
beside a perfectly wonderful repast in which 
chicken and little crisp sausages and hot, crisp 
waffles played leading roles, the Doctor and Miss 
Tabitha had placed at each plate a Christmas 
card tied by a tiny blue ribbon to a diminutive 
painter ^s brush ! Later on there was to be a tree 
in the Doctor’s living-room. In fact, the tree 
was already there, and the boys had spent much 
of the preceding evening trimming it and placing 
around its base inexpensive gifts of a joking na- 
ture for one another and the Doctor and Miss 
Tabitha and the two instructors who were there. 
262 


THE SECRET PASSAGE 263 

Laurie and Ned had exchanged presents with 
each other and had received several from home, 
not the least welcome of which was a check from 
their father. And they had bought small gifts for 
George and Bob. Also, though you needn’t tell 
it around school, Laurie had purchased a most 
odoriferous and ornate bottle of perfume for 
Polly! So when, shortly after breakfast, Ned 
suggested that Laurie take Bob’s present over 
to him, Laurie evinced entire willingness to per- 
form the errand. That he carried not one gift 
but two in his pockets was, however, beyond Ned’s 
knowledge. A cheerful whistling from the back 
of the house drew Laurie past the front entrance, 
and he found Bob, attired in any but festal gar- 
ments, swinging open the bulkhead doors. A pair 
of old gray trousers and a disreputable brown 
sweater formed most of his costume. At sight 
of Laurie he gave a joyful whoop. 

‘‘Merry Christmas!” he called. “I was going 
over to see you in a minute. Thomas is in bed 
with a cold or something, and I ’m fumace-man 
and general factotle — ” 

“Factotum, you mean,” laughed Laurie. 

“All right! As you fellows say, what do I 
care? I don’t own it. Now you ’re here, you 
can just give me a hand with this load of junk. 
Dad says it doesn’t look shipshape for Christ- 
mas.” Bob indicated more than a dozen paint- 
cans, empty, partly empty, or unopened, and a 


264 


THE TUENER TWINS 


mess of brushes, paddles, and rags that they had 
set there last evening. suppose a lot of these 
might as well be thrown away, but we ’ll dump 
the whole caboodle down in the cellar for now.” 

‘‘All right,” agreed Laurie. “First, though, 
here ’s something that Ned and I thought you 
might like. It isn’t anything much, you know, 
Bob; just a — a trinket.” 

“For me?” Bob took the little packet, and re- 
moved the paper and then the lid, disclosing 
a pair of silver cuff-links lying in a nest of cot- 
ton-wool. As Laurie said, they weren’t much, 
but they were neat and the jeweler had made a 
very good job^ of the three plain block letters, 
E. H. S., that he had engraved on them. “Gee, 
they ’re corking!” exclaimed Bob, with unmis- 
takable sincerity. “I needed them, too. Nod. I 
lost one of a pair just the other day, and — ” 

“I know you did. That ’s why we got those*.” 
“Well, I’m awfully much obliged. They ’rfe 
great. I ’ve got a couple of little things upstairs 
for you chaps. They aren’t nearly so nice as 
these, but I ’ll get ’em — ” 

“Wait till we finish this job,” said Laurie. 
“Grab a handful and come on. Is Thomas very 
sick?” 

“I guess not,” replied Bob, as he followed the 
other down the steps. “He ate some breakfast, 
but aunt thought he ’d better stay in bed. I had 
a great time with the furnace this morning. Got 


THE SECEET PASSAGE 265 

up at half -past six and shoveled coal to beat the 
band!^^ 

Where do you want to put these T’ asked 
Laurie. 

‘^Anywhere, I guess. Hold on; let ’s dump ^em 
on the shelves in the closet there. Then they dl 
be out of the way. Some 'day we ’ll clean the 
cans all out, and maybe we ’ll get enough to paint 
that arbor we ^re going to build. Here you are. ’ ’ 

Bob led the way to a small room built against 
the rear wall of the l^ig cellar. Designed for a 
preserve closet, its shelves had probably long been 
empty of aught save dust, and the door, wide open, 
hung from one hinge. It was some six feet broad 
and perhaps five feet deep, built of matched 
boards. Before Bob entered the cobwebby door- 
way with his load of cans, its only contents were an 
^ accumulation of empty preserve- jars in a 
wooden box set on the cement floor beneath a lower 
shelf at the back. There were eight shelves across 
the rear wall, divided in the center by a vertical 
board into two tiers. Bob placed his load on a 
lower shelf and Laurie put his on the shelf above. 
As he drew away he noticed that the shelf ap- 
peared to have worked out from the boards at 
the back, and he gave it a blow on the edge with 
the flat of one hand. It slipped back into place, 
but, to his surprise, it came forward again an 
inch or two, and all the other shelves in that tier 
came with it I 


266 


THE TURNER TWINS 


‘‘Hey!^^ said Laurie, startled. 

Bob^ at the doorway, turned. ^‘What ^s the 
matter he asked. 

^‘Nothing, only — Laurie took hold of the shelf 
above the loosened one and pulled. It yielded a 
little, and so did the other shelves and the rear 
wall of the cubicle, but it was only a matter of 
less than an inch. Bob, at his side, looked on in- 
terestedly. 

‘‘That ’s funny, he said. “Push on it.’’ 

Laurie pushed, and the tier went back a couple 
of inches. “Looks like this side was separate 
from the rest,” said Laurie. “What ’s the idea 
of having it come out like that ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Search me ! ’ ’ answered Bob. ‘ ‘ Pull it toward 
you again and let me have a look.” A second 
later he exclaimed: “The whole side is loose. 
Nod, but it can’t come out because the ends of 
the shelves strike this partition board! Try it 
again!” Laurie obeyed, moving the tier back 
and forth three or four times as far as it would 
go. Bob shook his head in puzzlement, his gaze 
roving around the dim interior. Then, “Look 
here,” he said. “The shelves on the side aren’t 
on a level mth the back ones. Nod.” 

“What of it?” 

“Nothing, maybe; only, if the back swung out 
the side shelves wouldn’t stop it! See what I 
mean?” 


267 


THE SECRET PASSAGE 

‘^Not exactly. Anyhow, it doesn^t swing out, 
so what ’s the — ’’ 

‘‘Hold on!^’ Bob sprang forward and seized 
the edge of a shelf in the right-hand tier close to 
the partition board, and pulled. It readily 
yielded an inch, but no more. 

“ Wait Laurie bent and pulled aside the box 
of jars. “Now!^^ 

Then, as Bob tugged, to their amazement 
the right-hand tier swung toward them, its 
lower edge scraping on the cement floor, and the 
left-hand tier swung with it, the whole back wall 
of the closet, shelves and all, opening toward them 
like a pair of double doors ! 

‘ ‘ Gee ! ’ ’ whispered Laurie. ‘ ‘ What do you sup- 
pose — 

“Pull them wide open and let ^s find out,^’ said 
Bob recklessly. 

When the two sides were open as far as they 
would go, there was an aperture between them 
some three feet wide. Beyond it was darkness, 
though, as they gazed, the stones of the cellar 
wall took shape dimly. Then Laurie seized Bob’s 
arm. 

“Look!” he whispered excitedly. Behind, 
where the left-hand tier of shelves had stood, was 
a blacker patch about three feet high by two 
feet wide, which, as they stared in fascination, 
evolved itself into an opening in the wall. 

“Kjiow what I think?” asked Bob, in low tones. 


268 THE TURNEB TWINS 

think we Ve found the miser’s hiding-place, 
Nod!” 

‘^Honest? Maybe it ’s just a — n drain or some- 
thing. Got a match f ’ ’ 

There are some over by the furnace. Hold 
your horses!” Bob hurried out, and was back in 
a moment and was standing at the opening be- 
tween the doors with a lighted match held toward 
the opening in the wall. As the little light grew 
they saw that the stones of the wall had been re- 
moved from a space of a foot above the floor and 
three feet high and some two feet wide. Around 
the opening so made cement had been applied 
in the form of a smooth casing. 

The match flickered and went out, and in the 
succeeding gloom the two boys stared at each 
other with wide eyes. 

‘‘Would you dare go in there?” asked Laurie. 

“Sure! Why not? It can’t be anything but 
a sort of cave underground. Wait till I get a 
candle. ’ ’ 

“A lantern would be better,” suggested Laurie, 
viewing the hole dubiously. 

“That ’s so, and there ’s one here somewhere. 
I noticed it the other day.” Bob’s voice came 
from the cellar beyond, and Laurie heard him 
walking around out there. Then, “I ’ve got it!” 
Bob called. “There ’s oil in it, too! Now we ’ll 
have a look ! ’ ’ 

Laurie heard the chimney of the lantern squeak 


THE SECRET PASSAGE 


269 


as it was forced up and then drop into place again. 
Then a wan light came toward the closet, and 
Bob appeared, triumphant and excited. ^‘Wait 
till I turn it up a bit. There we are 1 Come on ! ” 
They passed through between the doors, Bob 
leading, and stooped before the hole in the wall. 
Bob^ held the lantern inside, and Laurie peered 
over his shoulder. ^^Gee, it ^s high,’^ whispered 
the latter. 

‘^Yes, and it is nT a cave at all; it ^s a tunnel 
said Bob, in awed tones. ‘^What do you ssijV’ 
hi go, if you will,^^ replied Laurie, stoutly; 
and without much enthusiasm Bob ducked his 
head and crawled through. Past the two-foot wall 
was a passage, more than head-high and about a 
yard in width, stone walled and arched, that led 
straight ahead farther than the light of the lan- 
tern penetrated. The walls were dry, but the 
earthen door was damp to the touch. There 
was a musty odor, though the air in there seemed 
fresh. 

Where do you suppose it goes ioV^ asked 
Bob, in a hushed voice. 

canT imagine. But it runs straight back 
from the cellar, and so it must pass under the 
garden. Let ^s — let ’s go on, Bob.^’ 

^^Sure! Only I thought we were going to find 
old Coventry’s treasure!” 

‘^How do you know we aren’t?” asked Laurie. 
‘‘That ’s sol Maybe he buried it under the 


270 


THE TURNER TWINS 


garden.’’ Their footfalls sounded clearly on the 
hard-packed earth floor as they went ahead. Sud- 
denly Bob, in the lead, uttered an exclamation, and 
Laurie jumped a foot and then hurried forward 
to where the other was standing. Beside him, its 
point buried in the floor of the tunnel, was the 
lost erowbar ! 

‘‘What do you know?” gasped Bob. “We ’re 
under the farther end of the arbor. That bar 
came through between those stones up here.” 
He touch the crevice in the arched roof with a 
finger. “See the dirt it brought down with it? 
Well, that explains that mystery!” 

“Yes, but — where does this thing go to. Bob?” 

“Let ’s find out. It can’t go much farther, be- 
cause the arbor was only about forty feet from 
the back fence.” 

But they went that forty feet and perhaps forty 
more before the wavering light of the lantern 
showed them a stout wooden door across their 
path. Formed of two-inch planking and strength- 
ened with three broad cleats, it was hinged to a 
frame of concrete. It wasn’t a big door, but it 
looked very formidable to the two boys who stood 
there and viewed it dubiously in the yellow glare 
of the lantern; for a big square iron lock held 
it firmly in place. 

“Guess we don’t go any farther,” said Bob, 
dryly. 

“Maybe the key ’s here somewhere,” Laurie 
suggested ; and, although Bob scoffed at the sug- 


THE SECEET PASSAGE 271 

gestion, they searched thoroughly hut without suc- 
cess. 

‘‘We could bust it/^ Bob said; “only maybe 
we havenT any right to.^’ 

“I don’t see why not, Bob. We discovered it. 
Let ’s!” 

“We-ell, but one of us ’ll have to go for a ham- 
mer or something.” 

“Sure; I ’ll go.” 

“And leave me here in the dark? I guess 
not ! ’ ’ 

“We ’ll both go, then. Hold on! What ’s the 
matter with the crowbar?” 

‘ ‘ Of course ! I never thought of that ! I ’ll 
fetch it!” The light receded down the tunnel 
until it was small and dim, and Laurie, left alone 
in front of the mysterious portal, felt none 
too happy. Of course there was nothing to 
be afraid of, but he was awfully glad when 
the light drew nearer again and Bob returned. 
“You hold this,” directed Bob, “and I ’ll give 
it a couple of whacks.” 

Laurie took the lantern, and Bob brought the 
bar down smartly on the lock. Probably it was 
old and rusty, for it broke into pieces under the 
blow, and in another instant they had thrust he 
heavy bolt back. Then Bob took a long breath 
and pulled the door toward them. The hinges 
squeaked loudly, startlingly, in the silence. Be- 
fore them lay darkness, and Laurie, leaning past 
the doorway, raised the lantern high. 


■CHAPTER XXIV 


A MERRY CHRISTMAS 

<</^UESS Laurie got lost,^^ grumbled Ned, kick- 
ing one foot against the step and looking 
across the yard. 

George laughed. Guess you could find him 
if you went as far as the Widow’s, Nid.” 

‘‘Well, he ought to be back. It ’s nearly time 
for the tree, isn’t it?” Characteristically, Ned 
saved himself the trouble of determining the mat- 
ter for himself, and it was George who looked 
at his watch. 

“There ’s ’most an hour yet. Let ’s go and 
have a look for him. He and Bob are probably 
at Polly’s.” 

But they didn’t get as far as Polly’s just 
then, for when they reached the corner they de- 
scried Laurie tearing along the side yard of the 
Coventry place. At sight of them he moderated 
his speed slightly and began to shout, waving 
both hands in a quite demented manner. 

“What ’s he saying?” asked George. “What ’s 
wrong?” 

“Wants us to hurry,” grumbled Ned. “We 
are hurrying, you idiot ! ” he continued, raising his 

272 


A MERRY CHRISTMAS 273 

voice. But he hurried faster, George at his heels, 
and met Laurie at the front gate. 

‘^What ^s your trouble?’^ he demanded. 

House on fire? Bob got the croup? What is 
it? Can’t you talk?” 

^ ^ Can ’t tell you, ’ ’ panted Laurie. “You ’ve got 
to see — for yourself! Come on!” 

He seized Ned by one arm, and pulled him 
away and around the house and down the bulk- 
head steps, George loping after them. In the cel- 
lar stood Bob, disreputable in his old clothes and 
adorned with dust and cobwebs, a lighted lantern 
in one hand. 

“Has he told you?” he cried, as the others piled 
down the stairs. 

“Told me? He has n’t told anything,” gasped 
Ned, shaking himself free at last. “What is it?” 

Bob laughed loudly and gleefully. “Then come 
on!” he shouted. He dashed into the preserve 
closet, Ned, George, and Laurie at his heels, 
passed from sight for an instant, and was seen 
again crawling through a hole in the wall. Ned 
and George showered questions as they pattered 
along the tunnel, hut all they received in reply was 
insane laughter and a meaningless, breathless 
jumble of words. And then they were at the 
farther portal, and Bob led the way through, and 
they followed. 

They found themselves in a small cellar-like 
compartment scarcely four paces square. It was 


274 


THE TUENER TWINS 


windowless, although, close to the raftered. ceiling 
in the rear wall, two oblongs of brick set in the 
stone showed where at soijae time small windows 
had been. The floor was paved with flat stones. 
In one corner, the only objects there, were a small 
iron chest, its lid swung open and back, and a 
crowbar. The newcomers stared in amazement, 
the truth slowly dawning on them. It was Laurie 
who spoke first. 

‘‘Go and look!^^ he said excitedly. 

Ned and George obeyed. Within the chest lay 
four fat, heavy brownish envelops, bound and tied 
with pink tape. 

“Take one out and open it,’^ said Bob over 
Ned^s shoulder. 

Ned picked up one. Across one end was writ- 
ten in scrawly characters the inscription “GovT.’’ 

“ ‘Government,’ explained Laurie, softly. 
“It ’s full of United States bonds. Nearly a 
dozen of them. Have a look.” 

“ Geewhillikins ! ” breathed Ned, in awe, as he 
drew the folded contents into the light. “Old 
Coventry’s, do you mean?”* 

“Of course! Whose else? And there are three 
more lots. We have n’t figured them up yet, but 
there must be fifty thousand dollars’ worth!” 

“Maybe they ’re no good,” offered George. 

“How do you mean, no good?” asked Ned in- 
dignantly. “United States bonds are always 
good!” 


275 


A MERRY CHRISTMAS 

‘‘Well, the others — 

“They’re railroad bonds, all of them, three 
different lots,” said Bob. gness they ’re all 
right, too, don’t yon, Ned?” 

‘‘Right as rain! Why, the old codger — 
What’s that?” he asked suddenly, looking ceiling- 
ward. Laurie laughed. 

“That ’s what we wondered,” he answered. 
“We jumped when we heard it first. Don’t you 
know where you are?” 

Ned looked around him and shook his head. 

“Under the Widow Deane’s house!” 

‘ ‘ Wha-at ! But Polly said there was n ’t any cel- 
lar!” 

“She doesn’t know any better. Look above 
you. See where the stairway went? The old 
chap must have tom it away and boarded the 
hole up; and bricked up the windows, too. It 
must have cost him a pretty penny to do all 
this ! ’ ’ 

“What — ^what are you going to do with it?” 
asked George, pointing to the chest. 

“Why, hand it over to the lawyers, whoever 
they are, I suppose,” answered Bob. “But first 
of all we ’re going to take those bonds and dump 
them into the Widow’s lap. I always said I ’d 
hand it all over to her, when I found it. I never 
thought I would find it, but I have — or Laurie 
has, because if he hadn’t noticed that the shelves 
were loose we never would — ” 


276 


THE TUENER TWINS 


‘‘Besides,’^ interrupted George, ‘‘she comes in 
for a share of the money. Come on, fellows! 
Let ’s do it now! Gee, it will be some Christ- 
mas present !’’ 

“WonT it? Let^s each one take a package,” 
said Laurie. “We ^11 leave everything just as it 
is for the lawyer folks. Come on!” 

“Say, fellows, there ^s an awfully funny smell 
down here,” observed George. “Sort of — sort 
of sweet, like — like violets or something. Notice 
it?” 

“Yes, I noticed it before I got in here, though,” 
said Ned. “Wonder what it is.” 

“Oh, places like this get to smelling funny 
after they We been shut up for a while,” said Bob. 
“And I guess this place hasn’t been opened for 
two years, eh?” 

“Of course not; not since old Coventry died. 
Just the same, it’s a mighty funny odor.” And 
George sniffed again perplexedly. Laurie, who 
had withdrawn to the door, unconsciously placed a 
hand in one jacket pocket, where, within a crushed 
cardboard box, some fragments of glass were all 
that remained of Polly’s present ! In prying open 
the lid of the chest he had brought the end of 
the crowbar against that pocket, and now the pur- 
chase was only a memory, albeit a fragrant one. 

Some three minutes later four flushed-faced and 
very joyous youths burst into the Widow Deane.’s 
shop. To the jangling of the little bell in the 


A MEREY CHRISTMAS 277 

back room Polly appeared, a very pretty, bright- 
eyed Polly this morning in a new Christmas 
dress. 

‘‘Merry Chirstmas!^^ she cried. “Merry 
Christmas, Nid! Merry Christmas, Bob! Merry 
Christmas, George! Merry Christmas, Nod!^^ 

Perhaps Laurie should have felt hurt that his 
own greeting had come last; but he was nT, for a 
glance went with it that had n ’t accompanied the 
others. But, although the boys answered the 
greetings in chorus, it was apparent to Polly that 
they were there for another purpose than to wish 
her a Merry Christmas. 

“Where ^s your mother demanded Bob. 

“In there.’’ Polly pointed to the back room, 
and without ceremony the four filed past and into 
the little living-room. Mrs. Deane was seated in 
a rocker, her spectacles pushed down on her nose, 
a paper across her knees, and her eyes fixed in 
smiling inquiry on the doorway. 

Bob led the way. On the outspread paper he 
laid a brown envelop. “Wish you a Merry 
Christmas, ma’am,” he said. 

Laurie followed, deposited his envelop beside 
Bob’s, repeated the greeting, and drew aside to 
make way for Nod and George. The Widow 
looked inquiringly from the stout envelops to the 
boys, smiling tolerantly the while. Boys were 
always up to pranks, and she liked them, boys and 
pranks both ! 


278 


THE TURNER TWINS 


‘‘What are these she asked, finally, when the 
fourth envelop lay in her lap. 

Polly, looking over her shoulder, gasped as she 
read the writing on one of the packets, and 
her eyes, as round as round, looked across at 
Laurie. 

^^Nod! They aren’t — You haven’t — ” 

“Yes, they are!’’ cried Laurie. “Look and see 
for yourself! Open them, Mrs. Deane!” 

Ten minutes later, when the first excitement 
had somewhat subsided, Polly clapped her hands. 

“Why,” she cried, “now we know what those 
sounds were we used to hear. Mama ! They were 
Uncle Peter down there in the cellar ! They were 
his footsteps! And only a little while ago I 
thought I heard sounds sort of like them! And 
that must have been you boys ! ’ ’ 

“Of course,” agreed Bob. “And we could 
hear you folks up here quite plainly. There goes 
my last hope of catching a ghost ! ’ ’ 

“How many are there to share in the money, 
Mrs. Deane?” asked George. 

“Dear me, I ’m not quite sure.’^ She looked 
inquiringly over her spectacles at Polly. 
“Weren’t there seven, dear?” 

“Eight, Mama.” 

“Well, even then it isn’t so bad” said George. * 
“One eighth of sixty-two-thousand — ” 

“Seven thousand seven hundred and fifty,” 


A MEBEY CHRISTMAS 


279 


announced Laurie, promptly. ‘‘And the bonds 
may be worth more than we figured, ma’am!’’ 

“Well, I ’m sure,” answered Mrs. Deane, 
“seven thousand dollars is seven times more 
money than I ever expected to seel I shan’t 
know what to do with it.” She looked quite 
alarmed and helpless for a moment,' but Polly 
patted her shoulder reassuringly. 

“You must invest it, dearest, and then you 
won’t have to keep this place any longer, because 
when I go to work — 

But, instead of vanishing, the Widow Deane’s 
alarm increased. “Oh, I couldn’t give up the 
store, Polly!” she gasped. “Why — ^why, what 
would I do with myself all day?” 

“Yes ’m that’s so!” declared Ned, heartily. 
“Gee, you couldn’t do that! Why, we wouldn’t 
have any place to buy cream-puffs ! ’ ’ 

“I guess I would keep on with the store,” Mrs. 
Deane concluded, when the laughter had subsided. 
“I ’m afraid I ’d never be very happy if I didn’t 
have you boys around. Well, it ’s certainly very 
wonderful, isn’t it, Polly?” 

‘ ‘ It ’s — it ’s heavenly ! ’ ’ declared Polly. ‘ ‘ This 
is just the most beautiful Christmas there ever 
was or ever will be ! And I don’t see how we can 
ever thank you all for finding — ” 

“Gosh!” exclaimed Laurie. “The Doctor’s 
tree, fellows! We’ll have to beat it! We’ll 
leave the bonds here until to-morrow— eh ? ” 


280 


THE TURNER TWINS 


‘‘But I want to see the tunnel and — and every- 
thing!^’ cried Polly. 

“That’s so! We’ll come over after dinner. 
Come on, fellows! Neddie, come away from 
those tarts ! ’ ’ 

“I was only looking,” sighed Ned. 

Mrs. Deane and Polly went with them to the 
door. Down the street the deep-toned bell in the 
Congregational church was ringing, and, farther 
away, other bells were joining in a chorus of glad 
triumph. Mrs. Deane, listening, held a very 
happy look in her face. On the sidewalk, Ned and 
Laurie dropped behind their companions, paused, 
and faced the doorway. There was a quick ex- 
change of Jlances between them, and then, bowing, 
Ned began and Laurie finished: 

“A Merry Christmas and well-filled bins,” 

“Is the hearty wish of the Turner Twins !” 


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